Behind Closed Doors
by Babylawyer
Summary: Robin is a bartender at an upscale New York hotel. He's used to seeing rich men like Leopard Blanchard and high society women, but when he meets Mrs. Blanchard, at her husband's funeral reception, she is nothing like he would have thought. He's instantly and inappropriately attracted to her, but nothing will come of it. Or will it? Cover image by @starscythe
1. Chapter 1

**This is inspired by the 2017 OQ Calendar by Starscythe for July. You can find it on her tumblr or on my twitter BabyLawyerOQ**

* * *

"Martini please, extra olives if you can."

The request is not at all what he expected. Her attire, the diamond earrings and gold bracelet, the updo, the black gloves, everything about her screams money, even without knowing she's the widow of one of the hotel's most infamous patrons, Leopold Blanchard.

He'd expected her to be more like him, more like the majority of the rich people he gets at the bar—pompous, demanding and snooty. His patrons are typically anti-progress, anti-equality and happy about the new president-elect Richard Nixon, and he hopes she's not like that.

"Coming right up," he tells her, then adds a sympathetic, "I'm sorry for your loss."

She looks at him for a moment, brown eyes fixing on him in a way that makes him feel strangely vulnerable. It feels as if she's looking deep down inside of him and sussing out his truth. She's stunningly beautiful, he's noticed before from across the room, but now, with her eyes locked on his, she's even more so.

He tells himself to get a grip, this is the reception for her husband's funeral for god's sake. He's a cad for even thinking about it. Even if this weren't such a distasteful occasion, she has money and he's just a bartender—a woman like her would never give him the time of day.

It's as he turns to mix her drink that she speaks again, and he almost shivers over how gorgeous her voice is. Her tone is low and velvety and what she says is not a question, "You knew my husband."

With the bottles of gin and vermouth in his hands, he turns back toward her, offering an affirmative, "I did," before bending down to grab a chilled glass and the olives.

She nods approvingly when he pours the alcohol into the shaker but stirs, not shakes. His palate is not nearly refined enough to notice the difference between a shaken or stirred martini, but you don't work at the bar at a five-star hotel without learning these things.

"What did you think of him?"

The question surprises him, and his first thought is, _He was a bastard who didn't deserve you, _but he knows better than to say that.

He settles on, "He was an interesting man," as he pours her drink into the cup.

He's stabbing the olives, finishing off when she remarks, "That was diplomatic."

He chuckles softly, "Yes, well," he passes her the drink, "that's generally the best way to field such questions."

Her lips turn up into a subtle smirk, that she immediately tamps down when an older man in a tuxedo saddles up beside her.

"Regina," he says, and Robin realizes that before this he hadn't known her name. "Let me take care of this, it's the least I can do."

"I've got it, thank you," she replies testily, and he can tell she'd prefer this man go away.

"No, dear, I'm afraid I must insist."

"That won't be necessary," Robin interjects, "this one is on the house."

He can tell the man is considering fighting him on it, but must decide better of it because he stalks off in a huff.

"How much do I owe you?" she asks when the man is out of earshot.

"Nothing."

She looks at him, eyes burning into him. "Seriously, how much?"

What she doesn't know is, he can give it back just as good. "Seriously, there's no charge. It's your husband's funeral, it's the least I could do."

She scoffs at that, but grabs for the drink with her right hand, resting her left elbow onto the bar.

He looks around the bar, Graham is beside him serving a man in a brown suit, smoking a cigarette, that he's pretty sure isn't from the Blanchard party—they've been assigned their own servers but Regina choose to come up to the bar, just another thing he finds curious about her. There's only one more patron sitting at the bar, whose drink is still full.

He looks back at Regina and finds her looking down at her glass but not drinking.

"Is something the matter?" he asks, then kicks himself because hello, her husband just died, of course something is wrong. He's a widow himself, he should know better.

"I was just realizing this is my first drink as a single woman."

He can't quite read her tone, but it's not saddened as he expected. He wonders if it hasn't sunk in yet, if she's in that numb haze he found himself in for the first week after Marian died. He watches her as she lifts the glass to her lips and takes a gentle sip. Nodding approvingly as she sets the glass down.

He's not sure what to say, but she beats him to the punch, "You weren't exactly forthcoming about my husband, but I'm curious if you'll answer me this, how did you know who I am?"

"I've seen you here before with your husband," he tells her, which isn't a lie but also isn't quite the truth.

"I'm sure you've seen _many _women with my husband. I want to know how you knew which one was his wife."

He swallows as he debates what to say. She's bolder than he realized, audacious even, and he finds that he loves it. He wants to be completely honest with her, make the disparaging comment that's popped into his head, but he can't risk his job.

"You've been here for weddings and events, not for drinks at the bar."

"And what, you worked all the events I've been at?"

He shakes his head, "No, but you are also the only woman other than his daughter who arrived with the funeral party."

She snickers a little—which is odd but who is he to judge her grief—as she asks, "And how did you know who his daughter was?"

Again he hesitates for a moment, but in the end, goes for the truth. "Leopold liked to sit and chat while he drank. I think every bartender here would be able to pick Mary Margaret Blanchard out of a crowd. He kept her picture in his wallet."

Her eyebrows raise for a moment, then she smirks. "That sounds like him."

He longs to ask how she ended up with him, is curious why she seems so unaffected by his death, so unfazed by his affairs. Did she love him, he wonders. He thinks not, but he shouldn't project how he acted in the wake of Marian's death onto her. Just because she doesn't look seconds from a break down doesn't mean she isn't hurting. He'll never know the truth, for that question would be sure to get him fired on the spot. He wants to do something to help her, if she needs it, but he doesn't know what.

"You know…" she starts, "I've always found it interesting that it's all well and good for a man to cheat on his wife, but if she so much as looks at another man the wrong way… I don't think I need to finish that thought."

If conversation, distraction, is what she wants he will gladly give it to her. "I don't think it's 'all well and good' for anyone to step out on their marriage."

"Oh, a traditionalist. Let me guess, you also believe," she looks around for a moment and lowers her voice, "sex is an act that should only occur within the confines of marriage."

No, he doesn't. "I never said that, and I'd be a hypocrite to. I just believe in the sanctity of marriage."

Her eyebrows raise, nostrils flare and she blinks twice. "You can't be serious."

"Indeed I am, Milady."

"Tell me…" she stops her brow furrowing before asking, "I'm sorry, what is your name?"

He extends his hand, "Robin, Robin Locksley."

She grabs it, the velvet of her glove soft against his hand. "Regina Mills, technically Blanchard, but he's dead so…"

His smile is an instinct, but he tamps it down, realizing how inappropriate it is to smile after what she said. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Mills."

She smiles broadly at that, so maybe he needn't have worried. "Thank you. Now as I was saying, tell me, Mr. Locksley, have you ever been married?"

"Indeed, I have."

Her gaze falls to his left hand and he can see she's trying to decide whether he's lying because he's ringless. "My wife died," he explains, "she gave birth to our son and never recovered."

Sympathy fills her face, "I'm so sorry."

"Thank you," he says, not wanting to dwell on his old pain.

"How old is your son?" she asks, and it's a welcome distraction.

"He's four, turning five in the winter, won't let me forget that too."

She laughs, and he admires the way it lights up her face perhaps a bit too long, god he's a terrible person. "My son is eleven, and he too was excited to turn five."

He never knew Leopold had a son.

Her gaze turns knowing, "Leopold never mentioned Henry?"

He's been too frank with her already, but he likes her, he really does and she seems to appreciate honesty. "Not once."

"I'm not surprised; Henry's _my son_."

He hears the implication for what it is. It just makes him even more curious about her and about how she ended up the wife of Leopold Blanchard.

He scans the bar again, he's been neglecting his job but thankfully, they aren't busy and Graham has been picking up his slack. He's done it countless times for Graham so he doesn't feel bad staying here chatting with this fascinating woman. It's just past four, so he's well aware this place will start to pick up, and that he will soon have to return to work.

"Where is the lad?" he asks, and adds, "And how's he doing with all of this?"

She sighs, "He's upstairs in our room, probably watching tv. I don't want him down here associating with this. It's bad enough I have to be here, I won't make my son endure the company of these awful men."

He snickers a little at the insult. It perfectly fits the men he's aware of from the group, especially Mr. Gold and Mr. Midas. "Well, I'm glad you escaped to the bar."

"As am I," she tells him with a smile, which changes to a grimace, "I should get back in there."

She's been sipping at her drink as they spoke, and it's only a quarter full, so he urges, "Let me fix you another drink first. I think more alcohol is required to get back to that. "

She smiles softly, "Indeed it you, Mr. Locksley."

"Robin," he tells her, and she looks confused for a second before it registers.

"As you wish, Robin."

She downs the last of her martini, then plucks one of the olives off the skewer with her teeth. He's mesmerized by it, by how she pulls it into her mouth and bites down. There's something oddly erotic about it. He concentrates on finishing her drink but finds himself looking at her more than what he's doing.

He's a little sad when he finishes, it feels like an ending. This is likely the last he'll see of Regina Mills. Why would she ever come here?

She grabs it and hesitates, then asks softly, "Are you working late tonight?"

"Until ten or eleven, depending upon how busy it is."

"Well, perhaps I'll see you later then," she offers before turning and her making her way to the party.

He watches her as she goes, checks out her backside for far longer than is appropriate, but it's so luscious he can't help himself. He's not sure what she meant by later, but he hopes that he will find out. He's fascinated by her, so much so that he seems to have lost all manners and propriety. But he's been in her shoes, so he may be able to help her in ways others won't, and he can keep his inappropriate attraction to himself.

* * *

This is crazy, she can't seriously be thinking about going downstairs to see if the hot bartender is still there. She can't stay if she goes down, won't leave Henry alone for too long.

He'd probably be long gone, he said he'd be off work between ten and eleven, and it's almost eleven. She'd let Henry stay up later than usual, feeling bad for abandoning him for two hours on the day of his step-father's funeral. Then, he'd taken far longer to fall asleep than normal.

That should have been the end of this, what's she going to do if she manages to find Robin? Invite him up for a drink? That's crazy, that's… that's uncouth, perhaps, but something she can do; she's a single woman now. She's no longer Leopold Blanchard's property, she can do what she wants (it's not exactly true, she has a reputation to uphold after all, but she's not planning on doing anything actually scandalous.)

It had been a long eleven year marriage. She'd married a man her father's age to save her father, but even with the best treatment money could buy, he'd passed two years into the arrangement. She knew it had been a long shot, but she had hope, and it was why she was willing to marry Leopold Blanchard. They couldn't afford the treatment without his money, it had been a simple trade—her freedom for a chance her father could get better. But after Henry Sr had passed, Regina became more and more resentful of her marriage that felt like a prison. Her mother had always spouted how lucky she was Leopold married her, given that she was pregnant with another man's son, but she'd never seen it that way. Sure, she'd avoided the scandal of being an unwed mother, but the price was steep.

Now it's been fully paid; she never again has to tend to Leopold Blanchard. That is what propels her toward the elevator. She still feels silly as she approaches the bar because she doesn't see him. She sighs, realizing she's missed him, but it is probably for the best.

She turns to head back up her room when she hears his voice, "I wasn't sure I'd be seeing you again."

He's seated at the bar, but on the wrong side, that's why she'd missed him, she'd been looking behind the bar.

"Do you often hang out at the bar after your shift?"

He chuckles, "Sometimes I stay for a drink," it's only then she notices the beer in front of him, "but in truth, I have to admit I was curious to see if you'd show up."

Her cheeks flush and she hopes her make up covers it. "Since I've kept you waiting, can I buy you another drink?"

"You can, but it would be a waste of your money. I never have to pay for my drinks after a shift."

"Oh," she says, and curses herself for not making a plan of what she was going to do.

"Would you like something?" he asks hesitantly, and she regretfully shakes her head.

"I left my son upstairs, I shouldn't stay for that long."

His face falls, "I see."

"I, um, have wine in my suite, if you wouldn't mind sharing a drink closer to him." She flushes harder as the words pour out of her. God, what is this man going to think of her, inviting him up into her suite?

His gentle smile calms a few of her nerves as does his, "That would be lovely."

Still, she wonders what he's expecting, this has to be an unusual request. Then again, he had made that comment about being a hypocrite for condemning sex outside of marriage. Maybe this is something he does, charms unsuspecting women so he can bed them. The thought should repulse her, but instead, she finds it oddly intriguing. She'd blame the drinks she had earlier, but she'd only had two and that was hours ago.

They make small talk as they make their way to her room. Her hand shakes a little as she opens the door, which she hopes he doesn't notice. She's nervous, but in a good way. She doesn't know what's going to happen, but she finds she's okay with it.

They get to know each other better as they polish off glasses of wine while sitting on the couch. She learns he's a British immigrant (it explains where that sultry accent she couldn't quite place is from) and an only child, that his son is at a sleepover at his maternal grandmother's so Regina isn't taking him away from anything. They discuss hometowns, childhoods, lost loves, she tells him the story of Henry's father, how he died before she knew she was pregnant when the factory he worked at caught fire. She even tells him all about why she married Leopold. It's freeing to discuss it with such honesty, not to have to sell some bullshit story about how she loves him to his colleagues and friends.

They talk about history and politics, how they need to get out of Vietnam, whether or not they think the Civil Rights Act will be repealed, and what a shame it would be if it were. He too hates Nixon, which is a refreshing change. She laughs a little when he insists that 1968 will be the year a man lands on the moon. He's extremely interested in space, and his eyes shine as he tells her all about NASA. He's cute like this, his unbridled passion is exciting to her. She knows nothing about the subject, but in enthralled because of how into it he is. It's a far cry from her normal stilted and dry conversations, so she eats it up.

He smiles apologetically, "I'm sorry, I've been talking about this for a long time."

She smiles back, grabbing for the wine bottle to top off their glasses, "Don't be, that was fascinating."

He eyes her with an arched brow, "To me, yes, but no one else I know seems to think that."

She snickers, keeping her eyes on him as she sets the bottle down on the coffee table. It doesn't sit right, starts to wobble and they both reach for it, hands touching for the first time as they right the bottle. He looks at her, those deep blue eyes boring into her, his lips closer than they've been, tantalizing her. His tongue peeks out and wets his lips, and she wants to be the one doing that. She's free, she can, there is nothing wrong with kissing this man, and she really, really wants to.

He swallows nervously as she inches closer. His breathing has picked up, his pupils have dilated, and she wonders for a second if she's reading this wrong. Then he closes the distance between their lips and she forgets all about her worry.

His lips are soft against hers, as her eyes fall shut. He's kissing her gently, like he's savouring her. His lips linger, then start to pull away but she chases them with her own. They trade soft slow kisses that make her warm and, though she'd never admit it, giddy. It's been far too long since she had someone like this, got to enjoy the feel of kissing someone, just for its own sake, and she revels in it. Her hand strokes lightly over his cheek, before falling to grip at his arm.

His other hand comes to her hair, sliding up and down the nape of her neck in a way that makes her shiver pleasantly and moan quietly. The sound seems to spur him on because he kisses her more deeply, his lips parting slightly as hers do the same. His lips are so soft, she never wants to stop this. She wants to keep kissing him, kiss him more, harder. She wants to feel his body pressed against hers, taste his skin. She wants him, wants this man she only met today. It may be scandalous and improper, but she's going to take whatever he will give her. Leopold was having sex in this hotel for years, why shouldn't she.

She scoots in closer, wrapping her hands around his neck to get him closer as well, so their torsos are pressed against each other. It's a little awkward, they are both twisted to make it work, but he's warm and solid against her. Her one hand plays with his hair, mussing it as her other clutches the back of his neck, pressing him into her.

This time when his mouth opens against hers his teeth catch her lower lip and nibble. She tries to give better access, but can't twist the way she wants to, so she pulls apart for a moment (he pouts as she does). It's only for a moment, as she resituates so she's propped up on her hip facing him, her legs tucked behind her on the couch.

She pulls him down to her mouth, and the action makes her aware of just how much bigger he is than her. In her heels, she hadn't felt the height difference, but she does now, and she feels small next to him. Then his tongue teases at her lower lip, seeking entry into her mouth, which she grants, and she forgets what she was thinking.

His hands had, up to this point, been resting chastely on her waist, but his thumb traces her cheek as they pull apart for air and she's hit with a sucker punch of lust.

She kisses him fiercely, her one arm wrapped around his neck, using him to help her stay propped up, the other sliding down his back then back up. She's addicted to the feel of his lips on hers, to the sensation of wanting him, of wanting more. It's been a long time since she's felt desire like this.

He lets out a little sound of displeasure as he kisses her jaw. She tilts her head to help and he moves too. She opens her eyes to look at him and he's twisted awkwardly, barely able to reach where he wants.

They pause for a moment, drinking each other in. He's gorgeous, his sandy hair messy from her fingers, those blue eyes filled with want.

She pushes him back into the sofa, and he _Hmm_s, a question she answers by shifting on top of him and kissing him again. She'd changed out of her black dress, into one that was light and flowy, unrestricting but still decent for going out into the hotel, a choice she's now grateful for because it allows her to do this.

This time when he breaks to trail kisses down her jaw his access is unimpeded. She moans quietly at the sensation, heat flooding her from presses of soft lips to sensitive skin.

It feels so good, and she goes slack, simply enjoying the feeling, letting out quiet sounds of encouragement. She could probably be louder, Henry is two rooms away, but she would be mortified if she woke him. How would she explain the strange man making out with his mother the day of his stepfather's funeral? In fact, they should probably take this to her room, the one with the lock, just to be safe. She cannot traumatize her son on today of all days.

She stands up on shaky legs, catching her breath while she can. She gives him her hand and he stands too, but as she goes to lead him toward her room he stops her, his hand clutching her wrist.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Milady."

She frowns, did she misread him? She thought he wanted her, wanted this. "Oh, I… I'm sorry—"

"It's not because I don't want to, I _do_, but we shouldn't."

She wonders whose morals he's trying to save here, hers or his. He knows she'd had a child outside of her marriage, but he'd admitted earlier to also having sex outside of marriage. She's never done this, propositioned a near stranger—he doesn't feel like one, she already feels closer to him than all of Leopold's friends and she's known them for over a decade.

"Why not? It's not as if either of us are blushing virgins."

"Be that as it may, it wouldn't feel right. I don't think marriage is a necessity, but I do think love is."

That's sweet. Her life hadn't afforded her the ability to hold that view, but she's happy he's been able to experience it. She probably could break him if she tried, could get him into her bed, but she won't, won't take that away from him.

"Okay," she says, stepping back and pressing her body into his, not ready to end what they can do. "Can we just kiss some more? But in my room, behind closed doors, just to be safe."

He smiles down at her, moves his mouth so it's hovering above hers. "That sounds nice," he says, and she moves them into her room, shutting and locking the door to prevent Henry from discovering what she's doing.

She closes the distance between them, and this time his hands move a bit, a soothing touch up and down her back, her leg ends up wrapped around his, her hands finding his hair again. This time when the kiss breaks she kisses _his_ jaw, delighting in the way her soft nip makes him groan. She feels his shuddery exhale across her hair when she sucks gently at his Adam's apple.

They kiss and kiss, until she's almost dizzy from it. She's warm from his lips, from his touch, from the way his chest feels against her. She loses track of time, of everything other than the feeling of being so thoroughly kissed. They keep their lips don't venture past mid-neck, hands not below lower backs, but that does nothing to cool her libido. She still wants him desperately and she leans into that feeling, finds the joy in the wanting.

Her lips are tasting his skin again, her tongue darting out to feel the rough stubble under it. He moans softly, then his hand draws her head up. Their lips meet briefly before he stops, looking down at her as he mutters regretfully, "I really should be going, I start at ten tomorrow morning and I should get some sleep."

She looks over at the clock and realizes it's nearly two in the morning, and she too will need to be up in the morning. She and Henry need to head home, they live close enough they could have last night, but Henry loves staying in hotels and she wanted to do whatever she could to make the day easier for him.

"Okay, I guess this is goodnight," she says, wanting to ask him when she can see him again but unsure how to phrase it.

He saves her the trouble, pecks her lips gently and pulls away to grab a notepad and pen scrawling out a string of numbers. It's his phone number, a fact she's aware of before he tells her, "My phone number, should you want to do this again sometime."

He heads toward the door and she stops him with a, "Wait," planting one last lingering kiss to his lips before she lets him go.

"I do," she whispers as the door is shutting. She doesn't know whether or not he heard her, but it doesn't matter, she'll be calling him.


	2. Chapter 2

He gets her roses on their first date, he greets her with his hands hidden behind his back, telling her to turn around and close her eyes. She laughs softly as she does as asked, wondering what he's up to. She thinks he's gotten her something and needn't have, his company is enough of a gift.

When he tells her to open her eyes, there's a single rose in his hand, deep red and beautiful. She rubs her finger over the soft petals, smiling down at the bloom. She takes it from him, letting that grin split across her face as she turns to find him holding a small bouquet.

"That's the best one," he tells her as she admires the bouquet in his hand. She goes to take them from him, she'll tuck this one back in, but he stops her by pulling them away.

She looks up at him as his lips part and she has the sudden urge to kiss him. She watches as his mouth opens and he starts speaking.

"I realized I hadn't planned this out all that well since you were meeting me here, so I thought you could take that one with you, and we could leave these here for you to grab when we're done at lunch."

She nods, watching as he steps back inside, setting the bouquet down on a table. She takes a second to admire his backside, enjoying the view.

She's lucky to be here, with him. She'd been worried about getting caught, her husband has only been dead for four weeks and while she doesn't care what Leopold's friends and colleagues think, she can't risk word getting back to Mary Margaret. Regina has control of Leopold's fortune (less of a fortune than when he got it because of his reckless spending habits, but enough for her to live more than comfortably on) but there's a clause that reverted the fortune to Mary Margaret if Regina was ever unfaithful. While she never was, being seen with a man four weeks after Leopold's death could raise suspicion and endanger her livelihood.

Robin was understanding of her concerns, and in fact made her wait to see him again, wanting to ensure the loss of Leopold had set in and she was confident she wanted to do this. Robin knew there was no love lost between them, but even knowing that he had felt guilty about kissing her, given the circumstances.

He wanted to make sure he was in no way taking advantage of the turmoil in her life—which he wasn't, the more time that passed, the more she wanted to see him again. Finally, Robin seemed content enough time had gone by and agreed to do this. He suggested a place in his neighbourhood, after assuring her none of Leopold's people or Mary Margaret's friends would be caught dead in his area, let alone at this diner, which actually offers good food.

Lunch had been his idea, because he loses up to three nights a week with Roland to his job, and since she doesn't work, he'd asked if she didn't mind meeting him while Roland was at school—which of course she didn't, because it also saved her from explaining to Henry where she was going.

When he turns she takes a good look at his shirt, the way the green in it brings out his eyes, the way the sleeves show off his toned arms. As he gets closer she has that urge to kiss him again. She tells herself to rein it in, there will be plenty of time for that after they eat.

She's still holding the single rose as he takes her by the other hand and leads her down the street. She's never been to this part of town before, and she can see why he wasn't worried about seeing anyone she knew here.

"How long have you lived in this area?" she asks as they walk.

"I moved here a few years ago, when I was starting to think I needed more than the small studio for me and Roland . I wanted to be closer to Granny because she watches Roland while I'm at work. She's actually the other tenant, she found out her neighbour was moving out, and before I knew it I was moving in."

Her nose scrunches and he watches it in a way that almost makes her feel self-conscious, but she has a question to ask, the one that prompted the movement. "Isn't the diner we're going to called Granny's?"

He nods, and adds unhelpfully, "It is."

"The same Granny?" Is he taking her to meet his family? It's a bit soon for that, isn't it? It's not a problem, per se, they don't have to hide from his family, it's hers that's the issue. He is doing nothing wrong, she's the one who is sullying what's left of her reputation, and in more ways than one. She's 'dating too soon' and 'dating down,' two things that would make her mother apoplectic if she were still alive. But she's not and Regina's never really cared about her reputation, is only working to protect it for her son, both to ensure his financial stability and save him from the stigma.

"The same Granny. She's semi-retired now, and my sister-in-law runs the place in her absence."

"How does that go?" she asks, thinking how awful it would be if she had had to work with her mother.

"Sometimes better than others. They are both headstrong and particular, so it has its ups and downs."

She chuckles because that sounds like an understatement. He turns a corner and she spies a blue sign with a red arrow pointing to the door that says "Granny's Diner."

It's cute inside, and though it's nearly one o'clock there are only three occupied tables.

"It's a hidden gem," Robin states as they sit down in a booth. "The people who come here love it, but it's not very well known. It's a hit with the older crowd for breakfast though. Retirees keep this place alive."

"Hey, Robin, should have told us you were coming in," scolds a dark-haired woman, setting down a menu in front of her. "Granny _just _left."

"Regina, this is Ruby," and oh, this is the sister-in-law. It appears she is meeting the family.

She turns to Ruby and offers a smile and a, "Nice to meet you."

"You as well," Ruby says, with a smile. "I'll give you a minute with the menu, but do you know what you want to drink?"

"Coffee," she requests, "and a glass of water."

"Be right back."

"I've been remiss," Robin starts, "I haven't told you how exceptional you look."

She flushes at the compliment, she's overdressed in her tight burgundy dress. She'd known she would be, but she looks damn good in it and she'd wanted to knock his socks off.

The way he takes in her in appraisingly, his eyes lingering over her chest for a second before returning to her face, suggest it worked. She takes her time checking him out too, watching how he gently bites his lower lip as his gaze sweeps over her.

"Did you have a chance to browse the menu?" Ruby asks, setting down her coffee, "Or were you guys too busy making eyes at each other?"

"Ruby," Robin scolds, and Regina just laughs.

"We're going to need a minute," she tells her once Ruby's offloaded her water and a dark fizzy drink for Robin.

"Flag me when you're ready."

"Sorry," Robin apologizes unnecessarily, "that's the pitfall of coming here, my meddlesome family."

She actually opened her menu after Ruby's comment, so she's scanning the options as she answers, "I don't mind it." She doesn't, she'd worried for a moment, but for nothing. Ruby seems nice and not at all put off by the fact that Robin's brought a date here.

He chortles, "You say that _now_. And don't say that too loud, we don't want her getting any ideas."

"So I should raise my voice?"

"Good god, please don't, I beg of you!"

She sets her menu down, having decided on the grilled cheese to see him staring at her, his eyes begging her not to.

"What will you give me if I don't?"

"I'll owe you—"

"Owe her for what?" Ruby asks.

His face implores her not to tell, and she decides there's no harm in a little white lie. "My design advice, ways to spruce up his apartment and give it some life."

Ruby laughs, "Oh good, he needs that. Robin's sense of style leaves much to be desired, and by that I mean it doesn't exist."

"Hey now—"

"You don't even have any art, there's sparse and then there's having no decor at all, and that's your place."

Regina laughs, she hasn't actually seen the place, outside of that little entryway she spied today, but she'd taken a guess. "Some greenery would be nice too."

Robin groans, "Great, now I'm being ganged up on."

Ruby smirks, "You sure are. I like you, Regina. You're too good for him—"

"Honestly Ruby, are you going to keep insulting me or are you going to take our order?"

Ruby glares at him, "I already know what you want, you always get the same damn thing. What can I get you, Regina?"

She orders, and Ruby makes a few more jokes at Robin's expense, before leaving to put their order in.

"I think I'm regretting my choice of restaurant," Robin says with a laugh.

"I'm enjoying it," she assures, even though she's made her amusement fairly obvious. "But I'll take the chance to plan our next date."

It's perhaps a bit presumptuous, but they've shared many phone calls in the three weeks they've known each other and he's made his interest clear; it was hers he was so worried about. He's even willing to go along with keeping it a secret from her family.

He clearly doesn't think it's presumptuous, giving her a smirking, "I'd like that."

They chat and flirt until their food arrives, there's silence as Robin scarfs down a burger and fries, finishing while she's only halfway through her soup and sandwich.

When she gives up on finishing the last bites of her sandwich she offers it to him. He pops it in his mouth as she remarks, "I don't think I've ever seen anyone eat so fast in my life."

He flashes her his dimples, swallowing before telling her, "One of my many talents."

"Oh really, what are some of the others?"

"Fixing drinks for rich people, for starters, charming the most beautiful woman in New York to go out with me…" he flashes her another grin at that and she laughs softly, he's such a flatterer and she loves it. "I'm quite handy, I'm called upon from time to time to fix things in here or Granny's apartment."

"Really?"

"My dad was a handyman and he taught me the trade."

She finishes the last of her coffee before asking, "How'd you go from that to tending bar?"

"A friend of mine offered to get me the job at the hotel, and a guaranteed salary without having bother people for money was very appealing. I liked doing the work, but the business side of it wasn't for me. I couldn't bear taking money from people who were struggling."

"Honourable."

He shakes his head, "No, practical. I also do better at the hotel, the salary is laughably low, but the tips can be pretty incredible. Would be better if I worked weekends or more nights, but my time with Roland is worth more than anything."

He's such a good father, a trait that makes him even more attractive. She wishes Henry had that. Leopold was always distant and the rare times he took an interest in Henry it was all an act to show the world how bonded he and his son were, a complete lie. Daniel would have been that for Henry, but he died. She tries her best to be both parents for Henry, to shower him with love and affection she could only dream of getting from her mother. But still, she worries it's not enough.

"I know what you mean. My son is starting to get less and less interested in hanging out with his mother and it's killing me. I miss the days when he'd cuddle up in my arms."

"I'm not looking forward to that. I know it's not the same, but Roland is very cuddly, if you are ever in need."

She decides to flirt, looking him up and down as she asks, "And what about his father?"

He speaks lowly, in a tone that she finds nearly irresistible, "Oh, he'd love to cuddle with you."

She smirks, "Good, because I might need to take him up on that after lunch."

"That can be arranged. Would you like to get out of here?"

They have no reason to stay, except that, "Were you planning on us leaving without paying? I didn't take you for a thief."

He laughs, "Ruby and Granny refuse to take my money." Then he winks pulling out his wallet and throwing a five dollar bill down on the table, "Now let's run before she tries to give it back."

He gets up and she follows, giggling as he takes her hand and they rush out of the restaurant. They run all the way down the street until they reach his place.

She realizes she left her flower on the table when he invites her in to grab the other flowers. She apologizes and he laughs, telling her that's yet another flaw in his plan making itself known, but that Ruby will be happy to keep it for herself.

They step inside and leads her through an apartment that has no decor, making her chuckle to herself as she thinks of Ruby's comments.

"Would you like a drink?" he asks as her eyes flit around the space, taking in the dishes soaking in the sink and the light wooden table with three chairs in the corner that seem out of place given darker wood of the cabinets and counters. She thanks god his kitchen hasn't succumbed to the dreadful orange that for some reason is in style now.

"No, thank you." She gestures to the table and chairs, "Did you make those?"

"I did."

They are beautiful, just simple pieces of wood put together, no flourishes or fancy work, but the fact that he made them himself makes them even better. "That's impressive."

He grins, "Maybe save the praise until after you sit in one."

She snickers, boy, does she ever enjoy his sense of humour. She looks back at the clock in the living room, they only have about an hour until he has to leave to get Roland from school and she's been dying to kiss him since she got here.

She steps in and his eyes are drawn down to her lips. That's all the encouragement she needs. She closes the distance between them and presses her lips against his, delighting in the feel of his stubble against her chin, of his soft lips on hers.

He guides her toward the living room, probably aiming for the beaten-up couch she spied earlier, but he ends up stopping, pushing her against the doorway and kissing her harder. She's pinned between the door and him, and she doesn't mind in the slightest. Her ankle hooks around his calf, her one hand in his pocket, the other on his back as she pulls him impossibly closer.

They kiss and kiss, until they are both breathless, taking a moment to look at each other before diving back in.

The chiming of the clock startles them both and Robin pulls away reluctantly, "I'm afraid I have to go get Roland soon."

She nods, feeling a bit dumbstruck, her mind still cloudy from all of the hot kisses. "Right, I should be getting home too, the neighbour is grabbing Henry from the bus, but I shouldn't leave him there for too long."

He kisses her again, slow and gentle before stepping away and allowing her to exit. She thanks him again for the flowers, gives him one last kiss, then one more and one more, until finally, she leaves. She smiles down at the roses her entire ride home, thinking of the incredible date she just had and the incredible man that gave them to her.


	3. Chapter 3

**This is inspired by a lovely manip by Ouater on twitter**

* * *

They've been dating for months, three to be exact, and it's been blissful, nearly perfect. They both have one little thing that they would change. For him, it's that she hasn't told Henry. They have met a couple of times now, but she told Henry that Robin was a friend of hers, which is kind of true, just not the full story. She hasn't told him or anyone in her life that they are dating. Robin knows why she hasn't and he understands, but he's made clear his dislike of her 'telling people once Leopold has been dead for six months' plan. He thought three months was plenty, and when she told him she wouldn't be doing it anytime before six, he was rather upset with her. They'd gotten into a bit of a row about it, her insisting it's her decision to make, and him insisting he should be involved given it was about their relationship.

They reached an impasse and when a few days went without him reaching out, she thought for sure it was over. In the end it was she who broke down and called, and boy, was she ever glad she did. Without the burning anger of the fight they were able to get to the root of both their issues, which ironically enough was Henry for both of them. Robin didn't want to have to lie to her son, which she found incredibly touching. Meanwhile, she was trying to protect her son from the rumours. Once they established that, they were able to move past it. Robin's still not happy with having to wait so long, but with her assurance she would never ask him to lie to Henry, that if he ever asked if they were together she would tell him the truth, Robin begrudgingly accepted.

For her, that one thing she would change is something quite different. She isn't sure what it is about him that's turned her into a wanton woman, but the fact they aren't having sex is killing her.

She's never wanted someone like she wants him, and it's driving her crazy. She too knows and understands the why, Robin will only bed a woman he's in love with, it's sweet, really, but also maddening. It could be worse, he's not making her wait for marriage, but she's still having a hard time keeping patient. In her defence, it's been twelve years since she last had anything close to this.

She doesn't voice her complaints though, doesn't want to pressure him or make him feel bad because she knows it will be worth the wait. Knowing the way she flames up for him now, it will be that much better when they eventually let it all out.

She thinks she might already love him, but she's too afraid to voice it and have the universe strike down her happiness just like it did before. She's only ever been in love once, and losing him was the hardest thing she ever had to endure, worse than her eleven year marriage to a man older than her father who she could barely stand. It was different, the way she felt about Daniel—she was young and overwhelmed by the feeling, convinced they were going to be together forever. She had no fears then, only dreams of the future. She'd sit and picture what their life would be like, get lost in fantasies. She doesn't do that now, hasn't done it since. She's more rational now, any fleeting thought she may have about the future is tinged with the knowledge things could end.

Robin's coming over for dinner, and they have the house to themselves, which is dangerous for her libido. It's rare they have a dinner date, because they try not to take away any time with their kids, but Henry's at a sleepover and Roland is spending the night at Aunt Ruby's (Ruby had apparently once told him he had to wait until he was five, and he'd requested this of her at his fifth birthday party).

She's making him dinner even though she's not the greatest cook; Leopold had always complained about her skills. There's one dish she excels at, lasagna, and that's what she's making him.

She'd been a little overeager preparing, she knows exactly how long the dish takes her to make, but she'd been bored watching the time pass, so she cut up the vegetables aimlessly. One thing became another, then she'd had the whole lasagna prepped, an hour ahead of schedule. She'd thrown it in the refrigerator and cleaned up the kitchen, doing all the tasks she'd meant to do while it was baking. When the oven has finished preheating it was still ten minutes before she planned on throwing it in, but she decided not to wait, knowing Robin usually shows up early.

She ends up spending the bake time making a salad and garlic bread. She'd planned on a simple salad but since she has extra time, she makes one that's a bit fancier.

When she has nothing to do but twiddle her thumbs again she puts on a radio show and pours herself a glass of wine. She ends up staring aimlessly at the cabinets thankful Leopold had let her go for a more plain kitchen design than what was in style when they renovated two years ago. She's more than ready for 60's styles to be over, it's all too colourful for her tastes. Fashion has been a bit better, very hit and miss, but vibrant colours are more appropriate for clothing than home design in her opinion. With her own clothes she generally prefers to be a bit more understated. She never cared about being in style, like her mother wanted her to, preferring to actually look good. She's always had strong opinions about clothing and home design, which were really the only things she had control of in her life for so long.

That's what she's doing when there's a rap at the door. She jumps up, smoothing down her skirt and sweater before rushing to let Robin in.

She opens the door to him holding a bouquet of flowers, a stunning set of snapdragons that make her jaw drop with their beauty. She'd told him to cut it out with the flowers, she's worried she's driving him into the ground despite his assurances he knows the store owner and gets great deals. This time, she's glad he didn't listen to her.

"I see disobeying your wishes worked out for me this time," he says stepping inside and shutting the door behind him, passing her the bouquet.

"It did, _this time_, but I wouldn't keep pushing your luck."

He's laughing at her as he hangs his coat in the closet, not taking her empty threat seriously. He steps out of his boots, losing one of his socks as he does. He reaches into his boot to grab it and all she hears is a ripping sound. She doesn't know how he's managed to rip his sock, just that he has.

He looks as perplexed as she is, something about the way he looks curiously into the boot has her in stitches. She laughs so hard she doubles over and soon he too is in hysterics.

She offers him socks, once she stops laughing, but he turns her down, opting instead to take the other one off. That's fine with her, she keeps a clean house and is in bare feet herself.

"Now that that's over, I need to give you a proper hello," he says, stepping in toward her, "You look absolutely stunning, my sweet."

She grins, glad he likes it. The pink sweater is comfortable and she picked the white skirt because she knows how much he likes these kind of skirts. He looks good too, dressed simply in grey shirt and dark pants. She doesn't know how he manages to make everything look attractive, but he does.

His hands settle on her waist, giving her a quick kiss that warms her despite how cold his lips are from being outside.

"You look very handsome yourself," she tells him when their lips part.

He shakes his head, teases, "Liar," then asks, "What is that heavenly smell?"

"Lasagna, it should—" the oven timer beeps, making her point for her, "Why don't you go sit and I'll bring it out."

"Let me help you," he insists.

She relents because, "Fine, you can grab yourself a drink on your way in."

She's not sure what he wants, but there's wine on the counter and beer in the fridge. He goes for the beer after grabbing her wine glass off the kitchen table and topping it off. He heads to the dining room with both glasses and she smiles over how thoughtful he is.

She brings the lasagna in first, then returns with the salad and garlic bread. The table is already set for them, she did that hours ago, so all that's missing is a water pitcher and the dress, both of which she brings in on her next trip.

"You know I could have helped you with that," Robin teases.

"You _could_ have, but I didn't need it."

He looks around the table and inhales sharply, "This all looks and smells amazing, beautiful, you've outdone yourself."

She smiles broadly, then starts dishing it out. It is delicious, made better by the company she has, and by the ridiculous flirtation he throws at her once he devours his meal. He's always waiting on her when they eat because he's absurdly fast, and she is admittedly a bit slow, but he never minds. He does leave her to get another beer, taking his plate in as he does.

When he comes back in she offers, "There's a Tunnel of Fudge cake if you'd like dessert. I made it for Henry the other day so it isn't freshly made but is still good."

She's not surprised when he jumps at the offer, she knows it's his favourite just like it is Henry's. She goes to get up to serve him—it's a habit from having a child and a demanding husband—but he assures he can grab it himself if she just tells him where it is.

The urge to fight him on it is instinctual, she does it with guests all the time, but he's not a regular guest and she wants him to feel at home here.

"To the right of the stove, and plates are—"

"Above the sink, I remember and you know why, because someone made fun of me for not keeping my dishes above the sink."

She laughs, "It does make the most sense."

"It does, and that's why I rearranged the other week."

She thinks he's making fun of her, and accuses, "You didn't."

He snickers, "No, I actually did. I couldn't get your point out of my head and I was forced to admit you were right."

He's heading into the kitchen for his dessert so she yells in his direction, "It would serve you well to admit that. In fact, assuming I'm always right is the best policy."

She hears his scoff, but he doesn't give her a response, so she goes back to finishing her dinner.

She hears the sinks start and she jumps up out of her seat. That bozo, she always refuses his help cleaning up, and she knows he's washing his dinner dishes.

Sure enough, she catches him red handed. "Stop that, you are a guest."

"There is no point stopping now, I'm almost done," he tells her cheekily. He thinks he's _so smart_.

She glowers at him, watches as he finishes washing the cutlery, setting it the wrong way (handle down) in the drying rack. She sighs, "Since you've gone to all this trouble, can I bother you to flip that around, so I'm not contaminating the part people put their mouth on when I put those away."

He raises a brow, "Contaminating? Don't you wash your hands before?"

Of course she does, is he out of his tree? What kind of person does he think she is? She doesn't even dignify the comment with a response, grabbing a plate from the cabinet and looking at him expectantly. He takes the plate from her, after doing as she'd ask and flipping the cutlery. He cuts himself a sliver of the cake, following her back to the dining room when he finishes plating his dessert.

He finishes his dessert before her, but this time he has the good sense to wait for her to finish before trying to clean up.

She lets him dry the dishes (because she hates doing it) and lets him refill her wine glass as she puts the leftovers in the refrigerator.

When she's done she turns to see him sneaking off to the dining room with the washcloth, clearly headed to wipe off the table. She considers mock scolding him, but the truth is that she does appreciate his efforts to help her. She's not used to it, and honestly prefers to do things herself because she's very particular about her cleaning, but it's nice to have someone offer, even if they do use the wrong products and leave streaks. The thing is, she thinks he's probably the type who would learn her quirks and implement them, no matter what his opinions on her methods were.

He set his beer on a coaster but not her wine glass, which makes her chuckle, she thinks about grabbing one but then he's heading back into the kitchen looking oh so good, and she decides it can wait.

He wrings out the washcloth, and sets it aside, turning to grab for his beer. She admires the way his muscles bulge out of his shirt as he picks up the glass, the way his jaw moves as he swallows down the bitter liquid.

He catches her admiring him, sets down his beer and grabs her firmly by the waist, pulling her in. She loves it when he's like this, loves how strong he is, that he could throw her around if he wanted (he wouldn't, not unless she asked, and she has been tempted).

She pushes up onto her tiptoes, her palms settling on his upper chest as his hands interlock behind her back. They take a second to trade dopey grins, before leaning in. Their kisses go from sweet to hot in short order, and she finds herself gasping between heady presses of lips and tongue. She ends up with her hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him down to her. His hands grope at her backside, kneading firmly in a way that has her moaning and pressing closer to his front.

She can feel the growing bulge in his pants and she wants to feel him, wants him to bend her over the counter and have his way with her, ravishing her until they both come apart. He starts to kiss around her jaw, and it is not helping, makes her want him more, makes her want his tongue, which is currently flicking against her chin, other places.

He hoists her up into his arms—boy is he ever fit, it's so hot— and kisses him harder. He deposits her onto the corner of the island, pausing to move their drinks to the side so there's more room. He moves her more securely onto the table and her skirt is bunched at the top of her thighs, which she doesn't mind because it allows her to wrap her legs around him. She's not at the right height to press into where she really wants to, but she feels the warmth of his body against her.

She nips at his neck, causing these low groans to escape him that have her growing warm and damp between the thighs. She's not sure when she starts to rock into his stomach, but as he turns his attention to her neck, sucking at all her sensitive spots, she seeks out more friction.

His one hand slides down, flicking over her nipple, and she cries out, even with the sensation dulled by the layers of clothing. She's in a thin sweater and a thin bra so she felt his fingers and she wants to feel them again. They've lost their shirts before, so she pulls off her own, relishing in the way his gaze is drawn to her chest, his jaw dropping slightly.

She wants his off too, so she tugs at the sides of it, pulling it up and off and tossing it onto the floor. Then she's the one taking the moment to admire. She runs a hand down his abdomen, grasping his tight chest for a second before trailing her fingers over his hard muscles, down the centre line. His abs aren't completely visible, but she can feel them when she touches him and she loves it.

His hands come to her breasts, one hand on each, tugging her nipples in tandem and she throws her head back moaning, her one heel digging into his butt.

It feels amazing, has heat pooling inside of her. The way his hands expertly pleasure her nipples while he sucks behind her ear turns her into a puddle. It makes her want more, need more. She needs him to touch her lower, wants more than anything to feel him inside her. She knows it's not in the cards for them but she is _dying_. She's so wet and needy. As he flicks his tongue against her collarbone, his hands moving down, squeezing against her hips, she loses it.

She uses her leg to pull him even tighter to her and tries to get friction where she's burning for it, but it doesn't work.

Robin starts to pull away, as he does when things get too heated, and she dots a line of kisses up his neck before claiming his lips with hers. He doesn't pull away until they break for air, stepping back. She can see the erection pressing against his pants and she longs to pull it out, to feel it inside her.

"I… I should go," Robin says, but she knows he doesn't want to. She swore to herself she would never pressure him, would never try to seduce him, would let him call the shots when it came to taking things further, but she's so lustful she forgets that for a second.

"No, please… I, Robin, I'm… I need—" she almost says it, but catches herself at the last minute, kicking herself for getting so carried away.

His tone is low and ragged—it makes everything inside her throb—as he asks, "You need what, beautiful?"

She needs him to break the tension, but she shouldn't, they shouldn't, so instead she begs, "Stay, please. We can watch or listen to something."

"Love, if we go to the living room we'll just end up doing this there. Even if you put that shirt back on it would just come off again."

She knows that, "Can we, please, just for a bit longer?"

He groans wearily and she thinks he's going to turn her down, but then those strong hands grip under her bum and he's hosting her up again. He carries her to the living room, kissing her most of the way.

He sets her down and moves to climb on top of her, but she stops him, urging him to sit down beside her. When he's settled she rucks her skirt back up to her upper thighs. He watches her, licking his lips before she straddles him.

Now she can press into where he's hard as they trade kisses, and she does just that, delighting in the ripples of pleasure inside her with every rock against him.

Soon they are both breathing heavily again, and she's getting wetter with each grind of her hips against where he is so so hard. His mouth descends down her neck, her chest, and soon she's gasping with anticipation, picking up the pace of her hips against him as he approaches her nipples.

He looks up at her, looks conflicted for moment and shoot, but then he pulls the flimsy cup of her bra aside, sucks her firmly in his mouth for the first time and she moans, her brain shorting out as pleasure overtakes her. She grinds faster, with purpose, she's close, so close she forgets they don't do this, until moments later, when she's right on the edge, and he stops, his hands stilling her hips.

He swallows heavily, his face red. "I'm sorry, I can't."

She wishes he let her continue for one more moment, she was, is, right there. "Please, I… I'm dying here."

He bites at his lower lip and she wants to be biting that, but he's stopped her, she shouldn't push, even though her body is screaming at her to.

He surprises her, when he pushes her farther down his thighs, giving him room for the hand that slides up _her _inner thigh.

It's her turn to swallow, she thinks she knows where he's headed but she can't be sure. Two of his fingers find her clit, rubbing over the sensitive numb firmly and she feels everything tighten, feels pleasure burn through her. She moans roughly, then his mouth is back on her nipple and it turns into more of a cry, the feeling intensifying the pressure between her legs. She thought she was close before, but now she's vaulting toward orgasm. Maybe she should stop this, but it feels too good to do that. She leans into the feeling and soon it's overtaking her. She jerks and trembles, moaning loudly as his fingers bring her there, sending hot waves of bliss coursing through her body.

She's still breathing hard when she starts to come down, aftershocks ripping through her, as that lovely pressure becomes too much. She lets out a slightly pained sound and he pulls his hand away immediately. She sinks into him, leaning her head on his shoulder as she regains her breath.

"I… wow," is about all she can get out.

He pulls her face up so she's looking at him, and he's smiling, thank god. "Good, I'm glad."

He shifts a bit and he's still hard as a rock, straining in his slacks. She brings a hand down to finally touch him, her hand barely touching the button of his slacks before he stops her.

"You don't—"

"Please, I want to."

She doesn't actually know how to pleasure a man without taking him inside her, but she wants to learn, wants to make him feel as good as he's made her feel. She knows some men like a woman's mouth, and she hopes there's another way because that is not something she's ever enjoyed. It would probably be different with Robin, and she should try, but she'll wait because if she doesn't have to she's not going to.

He urges her off of his lap, so she sits down beside him as he kicks off his pants and underwear. He's hard and thick, and boy, she can't wait until she can feel him.

"I almost, before, that's why I…" he cuts off, but she knows what he means.

"I could, um, do that again, or something else. I…"

"You don't have to."

"I know," she insists, "I want to, show me."

His eyes widen at that, and he takes her hand, setting it at the curve of his hip. She finally slides it down, watching as he twitches when she gets closer to his length. She runs her hand over his erection, feeling the soft, warm skin. She gives him a few downward strokes, and he groans, so she does a few more, still keeping a light grip, not wanting to hurt him.

His hand comes to cover her, leading her into a much firmer grip up and down. He moans at the change and she watches as his body tenses and smooths out. He moans again and she feels the echo of it between her thighs. She takes a chance on upping the pace a little and the sound he makes is one she wants to memorize and replay every time she's alone in bed.

He groans again, his eyes squeezing shut, his thigh muscles tensing. She feels a thrill from knowing she's bringing him pleasure. This seems to be working for him and she marvels in the new discovery. Sure she's touched men before, but not like this, not for this purpose. She'd never thought of using her hand before, only knows what Daniel and Leopold taught her, which wasn't much. Both she and Daniel had never been with anyone when they came together, and Leopold wanted certain things from her, but she put her foot down after he tried to thrust into her mouth, making her gag. She told him he had a perfectly good spot he could thurst into and that was all she was willing to do. She's fairly certain he used that denial to justify all of his affairs, and if it is in truth what led him to cheat on her, she's extremely grateful for it because the more he saw other women the less he wanted of her.

Robin whimpers slightly, her hand having slowed down as she lost herself in thought. She shakes it off, vowing to stay in the moment, to not miss a second of bringing him pleasure this way.

She goes back to the way she was tugging her hand against him before, moves faster, holds a little tighter and he bites his lip hard, staring down at what she's doing with hooded eyes. She doesn't know what to watch, the way his face screws up with bliss, how his thighs are twitching, stomach clenching, or her palm skating over him again and again. It's all mesmerising and arousing, and that only intensifies when he moans loudly, fluid shooting out as he comes in her hand.

He sags into the couch as she grabs tissues, cleaning off her hands. She passes a couple to him and he does the same a moment later.

While he does she takes in his naked body, having been too distracted earlier to really take it in. She doesn't know when she'll ever see this again so she wants to memorize it while she can.

Her voice is quiet as she asks, "Are we okay?" She knows he tried to leave so this wouldn't happen, and now that she's not incredibly turned on she feels guilty.

He smiles, his hand stroking her cheek reassuringly, "Better than okay."

"Are you sure? I know you haven't wanted to…"

"And we haven't, there's still things we're saving for when we say we love each other."

There's something about the way he phrases it, that he said when they _say _they love each other, not when they feel it, that makes her wonder if he perhaps is feeling the way she is. It doesn't really matter, she realizes, as she snuggles up beside him, being here, in this moment with him is all she needs.


	4. Chapter 4

They should have done this sooner. He's not sure why they didn't, somehow in months of dating, they met each others' sons multiple times, but hadn't introduced the boys. In part it's because they tend to meet during the day while both are at school, but Regina's been over on a few occasions where she could have brought Henry, but didn't. Perhaps it's because Regina still hasn't told Henry about them—only one more month until she's agreed to start telling people, and he can't wait to stop sneaking around. His family knows, has known since their first date because he took her to Granny's, but they are discrete (aside from the constant razzing) and even if they weren't, it's not like they associate with anyone in Regina's life anyway.

Roland's uninterested and uncaring about what they are, he likes Regina, and likes when she hangs around. He's never asked any questions about Daddy's beau, which is good because he won't lie to his son. He knows why Regina is lying to Henry (even though she claims she's never lied, just hasn't told the whole truth) but really, enough time has passed and he hates the idea of keeping it from him. Obviously Henry doesn't need to know when they started, but he's not dumb, and Robin's seen him eyeing them suspiciously from time to time.

They decided on a TV night; Henry's shy, and Roland, while most of the time a motormouth has this annoying knack for clamming up in situations where his constant chatter would be helpful. Robin had ordered a pizza, which he had picked up right before Regina and Henry arrived. She tried to insist they all eat at the table, but it is his house and _he insists_ that pizza is to be eaten in front of the TV.

So that's what they do. It's rather quiet as they eat and he prays something that will keep the boys entertained is playing, or this could be a long night. As luck would it have it, Peter Pan is coming on in twenty minutes. Roland's never seen it, but Henry has, multiple times. Regina tells them that this is one of Henry's favourites and he shyly nods. That gets Roland going, he peppers Henry with questions about the movie, and Robin watches as Henry slowly starts to come out of his shell.

When Regina finally finishes up her pizza (she's one of the slowest eaters he's ever encountered) she gathers the dishes and brings them in to wash them. He follows her in, tells her to leave them, but she has none of it and starts washing the plates. There are no other dishes in his sink—he did them before she came, having already learned that lesson the first time he made her dinner and she washed his entire sink full of dishes despite his protests—so she's done in no time.

She pushes up onto her tip-toes and peeks into the living room. Seemingly satisfied by what she sees, she turns back to Robin and wraps her arms around his neck. She kisses him softly, no real heat, the way he's become accustomed to her greeting him when no one is around. His one hand finds her waist, his other tangles in her hair—as it often does, he has such a thing for her dark tresses—as he gives her a slow, lingering kiss.

She's smiling in a coy, satisfied way that always stuns him with how adorable it is. He knows the look on his face is dopey and lovesick, but she seems to enjoy it. The rare times they've sat and watched some television here, she's snuggled up in his arms, which he knows won't happen tonight. So he's greedy, drinks in this contact with her, caresses her cheek softly before pulling her in for another kiss.

She pulls away suddenly, and when he sees the look on her face, he doesn't need to turn toward the door to see they've been caught. Shoot!

"Henry," she breathes, and Robin turns to see the boy's back as he strides out of the room. Regina looks stricken, and he longs to comfort her, but he knows it's not the time, she needs to talk to her son.

Henry's sitting on the couch beside Roland when they get back into the living room and he responds to his mother's inquiry of whether he wants to talk with a definitive "No."

He can tell Regina is anxious and on edge, made more so when he sits down next to Henry, who immediately stands up, waiting for his mother to sit before going to the other end of the couch. He wonders if he should have taken the chair, the couch is big enough for all of them, but he thinks Henry might have preferred it if Robin wasn't sitting with his mother. The rejection stings a little, but he tries not to take it personally. He did not want Henry to find out this way, and he's not shocked that Henry now wants nothing to do with him. He hopes in time that will fade, they've only met a few times, but he likes Henry, he's bright, imaginative and caring.

The movie starts and Henry insists on silence during, which he suspects is only because of what he's found out about their relationship. Conversation is also stilted during the commercial breaks. Roland is getting tired, so he doesn't have much to contribute, and Henry stares avidly at the TV, avoiding looking at Robin at all costs.

Halfway through the movie Robin offers up a snack, he needs to do something because he is feeling increasingly awkward. Roland immediately knows what the snack is and it gives him a second wind as he starts telling Henry excitedly how his dad makes the best popcorn. He gets the okay from Regina, but he makes a point to ask Henry if he wants some.

He's not really expecting an answer, but for the first time since finding them in the kitchen Henry actually looks at him. He nods slightly, then asks, "How do you make it?"

"I can show if you'd like," he offers, and Henry nods quickly, then remembers he's mad or whatever he is at Robin and bites his lip.

"You don't have to come, but if you'd like to learn I'll be in the kitchen," Robin tells him and gets up off the couch. He's unsure if he'll be followed, and it won't bother him if he isn't. He's hoping with him gone, Henry might finally talk to his mother.

That doesn't happen though. He's just got the oil heated to the right temperature when he hears Henry ask softly, "What are you doing?"

He turns the burner down, he'll reheat it once he's explained the whole process so Henry can see it. It's a good thing he did, Henry's a curious child and he asks a lot of questions, like how you know when the oil is ready and what would happen if it was too hot.

A, "Hurry up Papa," is yelled from the living room interrupting his explanation and he chuckles slightly; he should have known Roland's patience would run out.

He tells Henry they should get going, and Henry stands beside him ready to assist. They heat up the oil and toss in the kernels in near silence until a small voice asks, "Are you courting my mom?"

Henry couldn't have picked a worse moment to ask, because Robin has to keep his eyes on the popping kernels and can't look at him like he wants to. "I am."

He nearly chokes when the next question is, "Are you in love with her?" He is, or he thinks he is anyway, but it's too soon and he hasn't told her that, so it puts him in a bit of a bind.

"I think it's a little soon for that."

"But you care about her, right?"

The popcorn is finally done so he turns off the burner, pulls the lid off the pot and dumps the popcorn into the serving bowl. It only takes him a few seconds, it's a practiced maneuver, then he turns to Henry, bending down so he can look him in the eye and says, "I care about her deeply, and you too. You seem upset about it and I don't want to hurt you."

Henry looks down, voice so soft Robin almost misses what he asks, "Are you going to marry her?"

"I… I don't know yet. Why do you ask?"

"When Grace's mom died, her dad started spending all his time with her step-mom. They got married and she's really mean, I've seen it. She made them move away and now I barely see Grace anymore because she's at a different school and her step-mom doesn't like us hanging out. I don't want to move, I don't want everything to change. I still want to have my mom."

He's so thankful that's all that's bothering Henry because he can assure, "Nobody is moving any time soon, and if your mum and I were to get married, you'd still have her. I like your house, it's nicer than here. I can't promise you'll never move, but I know you love your school and that your mum knows that and wants to keep you there. I'm not trying to take away your mum, or replace your step-dad, I promise."

"I… I like having my mom all to myself. Is it okay that I don't want to share her?"

"It's okay to feel whatever you feel, Henry, and it was really brave of you to tell me that. I think you should talk to your mum when you get home too, because she never wanted to upset you."

Henry grabs the bowl of the counter, holding it tightly between his arms pressed up against his belly. "I will. We're missing the good parts, is it okay if we go back and watch the movie now?"

"Of course it is," he tells him, as he stands up, his joints protesting having been crouched down for so long.

They walk into the living room and Roland is asleep on the couch, so Henry plops down on the floor beside his mum with the bowl. He knows Roland can't have been out all that long so he'll likely wake up if Robin sits on the couch.

Regina eyes him questioningly, and he mouths, "It's all good," as he tries to figure out where to sit.

Roland chooses that moment to stir, eyes blinking blearily for a moment before spying Robin. "Popcorn, Papa?" he slurs sleepily, and Robin nods. Henry passes the bowl up to his mother who makes Roland sit up to eat so he doesn't choke.

Robin slides into the spot created between Roland and Regina, laughing slightly when after a couple handfuls of popcorn, Roland's eyes start to fall shut again. He urges his son to lay down, and ends up with Roland's head rested in his lap. He really should put him to bed, but he knows Roland will blow a fit if Robin tries to take him away now. So instead, he grabs the blanket from beside Roland's feet and covers him with it. Once Roland is deeply asleep, he'll take him to his room and tuck him into his bed.

Regina has the other couch blanket, the red one, over her lap, and she snuggles in more so she is pressed into his chest. It's nice to be like this. He throws his arm over her shoulder and they settle in comfortably, as Henry munches on popcorn from his seat on the floor.

Roland shifts in his sleep, somehow managing to pull the blanket half over his face. Robin looks down at him and smiles, his son is so peaceful in his slumber, and always manages to get himself into these uncomfortable looking positions that are also adorable. Then he looks at Regina, and catches her smiling down at Roland and his heart swells. Her eyes meet his and she grins softly, her eyes lighting up. He realizes they wouldn't have been able to do this before, that she wouldn't have cuddled up with him if Henry hadn't found out. He's happy that Henry knows about them, wishes he'd been able to assuage all of Henry's fears, he's confident that once he speaks with his mum Henry's reservations should all be addressed. And if not, he knows they will be able to get through it.

* * *

All seemed to be okay after Robin and Henry went off to make the popcorn but she's still a little nervous as they get in the car to go home. They'd stayed out later than she intended—it's the weekend so she doesn't have to worry so much about Henry's sleep, he can stay in bed longer in the morning to make it up. She'd been half tempted to take Robin up on his offer that they stay there, her in his bed, Henry on the couch. If she hadn't wanted to talk to Henry alone, she would have, but she did, so here they are.

Henry doesn't say anything as she starts down the road so she's forced to ask, "Are you okay?"

His answer is unhelpful, but not unexpected. "Yeah."

"You seemed upset when you saw me with Robin." Henry doesn't say anything for a moment so she goes on, "Do you want to tell me how you felt about that?"

Henry shrugs, and she fights the urge to sigh out her frustration. She misses when he would tell her everything and it's concerning that he doesn't seem to want to talk about this.

"It's fine, Mom, really." Henry sighs.

She takes a quick glance his way, and he's slumped in his seat but doesn't seem to be too bothered by the conversation, so she pushes forward. "I love you, baby. I don't want to hurt you, and I upset you earlier so I want us to talk about it so I can make sure you are okay with me and Robin. If you weren't—"

"It's not that; I like Robin."

Dang, it's the secret, he knows and he's mad at her for hiding it. Shoot this is what she was afraid of, why she was hiding it. Look where that got her. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. You shouldn't have had to find out that way."

"Mom, seriously, I don't care that you are with Robin. I was a little surprised and grossed out seeing you kissing, but that's it."

She laughs, "We'll try to keep the kissing to a minimum in your presence. Was that really all?" She can't imagine that it was, he saw her kissing a man so soon after his step-fathers death, that had to be confusing for him.

"I just… I liked it being just me and you. Then I thought of Grace…" She thinks of Zelena, Grace's awful stepmother. She knows where this is going. "I know when her dad started with Zelena, he wasn't really around any more and I didn't want that."

"Oh, baby," she starts, realizing she's been lucky so far using that endearment, he's started taking offence to her calling him a 'baby' and she often an eye roll or a sarcastic comment in response about him not being a baby, like she doesn't know he's getting older. What he doesn't get is that he'll always be her baby. "I would never do that to you. You are my everything. I love you more than anything, even when you want to get rid of me I'll still be there."

"I know, but Grace's dad was good before, and sometimes people change and…"

"Listen to me, sweetie, the fact that I love you and want to spend time with you is never going to change. Grace's dad made a mistake, and he's going to realize that one day. I'm not going to make that mistake, you come first. Robin gets that, it's the same with Roland for him. All that's going to change is the four of us will probably hang out more, if you are okay with that."

Henry's been watching her intently as she spoke. Now he nods, and she has the urge to tell him to vocalize it because they are in the car and she shouldn't be looking at him so much, but he beats her to the punch. "Yeah, that's okay with me."

"Is there anything else bugging you?"

He says no, but she can't help but wonder, "Do you think it's too soon?"

"No."

She's been so worried about it, it can't be that easy. "Does it… has it brought up any feelings about your step-dad? I know you… loved him and he's only been gone for a short time." Henry's feelings about Leopold are complicated, she knows that, so it's hard to boil it down, and she can't imagine he isn't feeling something about it. "I don't want you to feel like I'm disrespecting him or something."

"I don't think _that_."

Something in his tone, and the way he's now looking out the window not her way, makes her warning bells go off. "Well what do you think? I haven't wanted to upset you so I haven't asked—" Henry makes a sort of coughing snort and she amends, "Haven't asked _much_. I've been letting you come to me if you want to, but I just feel like we haven't really talked about it in a couple of months."

"I don't know, Mom. Sometimes I think of him and get sad, but I don't…"

Henry's staring intently out the window and she knows he's avoiding looking at her, that whatever this is, he's ashamed of it. "You don't what?" He doesn't answer and she prompts, "It's okay." When he still doesn't answer she takes a chance, "Can I tell you something? I don't really feel sad anymore, and that's okay, just like it's okay to be really sad all the time still like your sister. Every one feels differently when these things happen, there's no right or wrong with what you feel."

There's silence for a minute, then Henry tells her softly, "I don't think about him that much anymore. But then when I do I feel sad and… guilty about all the time I wasn't thinking about him."

"You have nothing to feel guilty about." This next bit isn't exactly true but would be if Leopold had been a better person, "He wouldn't want you to feel guilty or be sad. He'd want you to have fun with your friends and move on with your life."

"It's also… if you died I wouldn't… I couldn't… Is it terrible that I'd…"

She knows, or she thinks she does anyway what he's getting at. "Your step-dad was away a lot and we've always been together. But you don't think about who you'd be more upset about. I'm still here, I love you and I'm not going anywhere. I want you to feel like you can talk to me about these things."

"I know," he says but she's not convinced. She has this need to touch him, comfort him, wrap him in her arms, but she can't. She does grab onto his hand, giving it a quick squeeze, before pulling it back so she can make a turn at the stop light just ahead.

They make idle small talk as the drive goes on. She still feels a bit uneasy, right up until they get out of the car and Henry throws his arms around her with a, "I love you, Mom."

It's so rare that he initiates physical affection she has to fight the urge to tear up over the gesture. She holds him close, savouring the affection while she can. In true Henry fashion, he starts to protest soon after and she lets him go.

Once they are inside Henry rushes upstairs, and she hears him in the bathroom, probably brushing his teeth. By the time she gets upstairs, he's tucked in his bed with the light off. She gives him a quick, "Good night," that he returns, then she closes his door.

The night was not at all the simple meeting she expected, but it's like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders now that Henry knows and approves. She doesn't know what she would have done if he didn't, it's always been clear their children come first, but the thought of losing Robin is terrifying and she's glad she doesn't ever have to find out what would happen if Henry didn't approve. There's still some obstacles in their path, some rather big ones, but armed with her son's approval they don't seem as daunting.


	5. Chapter 5

Inspired by a manip by Hopefulfeathers

* * *

He's distracted for most of his shift, is an all around terrible employee because he can't stop thinking about his after work plans. He works past Roland's bedtime and again tomorrow morning, so his son is having a sleepover at Granny's. He's completely distracted by the fact that Regina's sitting at the bar, sipping Martinis, waiting for him to finish work so they can go up to her hotel room.

It's not the first time she's gotten a room here—only doing it when he has the consecutive shifts so he wouldn't see his son anyway (which he appreciates more than he can express)—but it's the first time since he's known he's in love with her, and he doesn't know how he's supposed to resist her. She looks unbearably sexy tonight, he's always known she's a fox, but in that tight black dress, clinging to curves he's dying to bury his face in, well, the thought of holding back is torture. It's the same dress she was wearing when they first met, minus the gloves. Her hair is down this time, bless her, she knows how much he loves to run his fingers through her long tresses.

Lord, does he ever want her. This night may have been a bad idea, he won't pressure her, won't express his feelings until he's sure she's ready which also means physical expressions of that. They'll get off tonight, that much is clear, but he is dying to go down on her, to bury himself in her slick, wet heat and feel her spasm around his cock. He needs to stop thinking about it, but he can't. Every time he tries, he looks over and sees her perched on that barstool, waiting for him, sipping that drink, sucking at the gin soaked olives and he's gone again. He's utterly lost for her.

He loves her, hates the secrecy but can't deny it has its perks. There is something so seductive about the forbidden aspect of their relationship. The problem is, he wants to see more of her, wants them to be together fully, wants to live with her, marry her eventually, and he doesn't want everything to be pushed back because of how they met. He knows she's the one he wants to be with for the rest of his life. His son absolutely adores her, so does his family, and he loves her son. Granny had even given him her ring the other day, saying she wanted him to have it for when the time was right. That meant more than he could ever express to her. They didn't get along at first, Granny didn't think he was good enough for her daughter, but over time she's become his second mother, and the fact that she approves, that she wants him to move on with Regina is an approval he didn't know he needed until he had it.

Now he's practically bursting at the seams wanting to tell her how he feels. Between that and how damn delectable she looks tonight, something has got to give.

He'll keep it together, will resist all his urges, he has to.

That all goes out the window once he's in her room. They are drawn to each other like magnets, pressing their bodies together and kissing fiercely as soon as the door swings shut. He doesn't even take in the room, too busy with one hand on her butt, the other tangled in her hair, his mouth too insistent against hers to notice any of the details. She steps back and back, until his hand hits something. He doesn't let that obstacle stop him, starts kissing down her jaw, her neck, everywhere he knows she likes while she gasps and presses into him.

His cock is standing firm, and he knows exactly how this will go down. They'll grind or rub each other to orgasm, then retire to the bed to spend the night together. If he's really lucky, she'll sleep nude and he can wake up and enjoy her all over again before work.

He's not normally one to move fast but she's been teasing him all night so he grasps at the hem of her dress, waiting for her okay to pull it off.

She surprises him when she doesn't do that, she attempts to step back, stopped by the table she inadvertently backed them into. He gets the message, steps back so she has some room, finally taking in the space. They are in a suite, which isn't unusual, but as always just makes him want to screw her against every possible surface in the place, which isn't helping his erection one bit.

"I…" she inhales sharply, looking up at him and god, is she ever stunning. He doesn't know how he got so lucky to have her but he's never letting go.

"What is it, beautiful?"

She looks down, her body suddenly getting smaller, as if she's hiding from him.

He slides his hand along her face, waiting until she looks up at him to tell her, "You can tell me anything, love." She nods shyly, her one hand coming to rest on his work shirt. He used to change after work, but she'd told him she likes the uniform, so he made a point to keep it on. He tells her that and she giggles softly. It makes him voice another thought, "You know, I have no idea what you see in me, I'm just a bartender, I'm so lucky you give me the time of day."

A breathtaking grin splits across her cheeks, her face reddening slightly in a way he finds completely adorable. "You are so much more than that. You are such a good man, so kind, honest, loving, dedicated to your family. You are passionate, on the right side of history, pushing for people's rights and equality. When most people are sticking to the sidelines you are out on the front line. You are so brave, willing to do whatever it takes to do the right thing and it's inspiring. You make me a better person."'

He's floored, so touched by her words, but frozen, unable to react. He never expected to hear such nice things from her and it makes him want to throw out three words he can't take back as she continues, "You are an incredible role model for my son, a devoted father, and I don't know what I'd do without you, never think you aren't good enough. You are incredible and don't think that your background would ever stop me from loving you, because it won't."

She freezes then, as the words _from loving you_, bounce around in his head, painting a wide smile across his face.

"I… I…" she stutters looking down, and he saves her the trouble, bolstered by the fact that he no longer feels like the words he's been aching to tell her would be pressuring.

"Regina, look at me." She does, her eyes hesitant, "I love you, so much."

"You… you do?" she asks, and he can tell she wasn't expecting it at all because she's still acting like what he said can't be true.

"I do. I am _in love _with you, Regina Mills. You are one of the best things that's ever happened to me. I can't imagine my life without you, without loving you—"

Her lips press against his urgently and he opens for her as she kisses him desperately, pouring the words she only sort of said into the kiss. When they break for air, both breathing raggedly, she whispers into the small space between them, "I love you, too."

It's not as if he didn't know it before but something about the confession makes his heart burst, his stomaching fluttering with all he feels for this amazing woman who somehow _loves him_.

He can't express what he's feeling in words, too full of sheer happiness and joy, a wide grin plastered across his face that almost hurts. He whispers into her hair reverently, "I love you."

She responds, "I love you," in turn, while pushing herself up onto the table so they are at eye level. She's stunning, she loves him, and all of a sudden all of the lust from before crashes down on him. She's propped up on the desk, looking up at him, telling him how much she loves him, and he has to have her. He pulls her dress off, a task she assists with, then presses her farther back onto the table as he kisses her passionately. Her legs come up onto the table as she shifts back, the bare skin pressing into his arms as he seeks her hands out, holding them firmly as she arches beneath him.

He breaks the kiss to look at her and christ is she ever sexy, with her hair flowing down behind her. She's propped up on her elbows, her breasts pressed up towards him, strong legs up on the table clenched around his back. She's surrendered to him, her hands pinned under his. For a moment, he takes advantage of his power, keeps her hands pinned, kissing and nipping at all of her exposed skin and she pants and writhes beneath him. It's all incredibly hot, made more so by the way she desperately tells him that she wants him, moaning when he rolls his tongue down the centre of her neck to the clasp of her bra in the centre of her chest.

He can see how heavily she's breathing as he kisses her chest, avoiding where she's most sensitive and still covered.

"Baby, please," she pants and his cock throbs at how erotic this all is. He knows what she wants, he wants it to, so he frees one of her hands, just long enough to undo and push off her bra. It's hanging off her shoulders but he can't be bothered to get it off all the way, not when her hard nipples are so close to his face, begging to be sucked.

He sucks, nibbles, and licks at her cleavage, getting closer and closer to her nipples with every pass of his mouth. She's watching him, her anticipation evident in her face, her breathing, and that dark wet spot on her undergarments he can't look at too much or he will lose all control. He's going to build her up, make her desperate for it, then bury his face between her thighs, make her lose all control, then bury himself inside her and make her come again.

She pants another, "Please," as he nears her nipple, whimpering when he switches sides and starts his inward path again. Her breathing gets louder and louder as he approaches this nipple and he thinks about pulling away again, but when his tongue flicks lightly over the darkened skin, so close but not quite where she wants, she lets out this guttural groan that has his cock twitching and makes him done with teasing. He takes her between his lips, sucking the way he knows she likes, relishing the high moan it draws out. He sucks and sucks at her, switching sides so they get equal attention until he's aching for her and her hips are rocking against him desperately.

He kisses down her stomach, feels the muscles clench underneath his lips. A peek at her underwear reveals they are even more soaked than before, and he ghosts a finger over them, delighting in the slickness before pulling them off and baring her to him.

He's never seen this view before, and it's incredibly hot. He takes a moment to take it all in, his hands stroking softly over her thighs, keeping her arousal spiked as he admires. Then he kisses up her thighs, and her hands come to fist in his hair. She's panting, groaning, moaning, making all these to die for sounds as her hips rock and it's all too much, he needs to feel her. But he also wants to taste her, and she has to be close, so he lowers his mouth, ignoring her, "Wha—" as he licks from clit to slit. She moans then, her nails digging into his scalp for a second as her body tenses and releases. He laps up her wetness as his tongue flicks inside her, gathering more and more of her taste. She tastes salty and a little sweet, growing even wetter under his attentions.

She cries out when he returns to her clit, taking the sensitive knot into his mouth and sucking lightly, then more firmly when she arches into him, a glorious sound of pure pleasure spilling from her lips. It's exquisite torture, his body needing to feel even just a bit of what she's feeling. He sucks and sucks, flicking his tongue against her between firm sucks because it makes her whole body spasm beneath him.

She's crying out, and his slacks are far too tight. The sounds she's making, the way she's moving only make him want her more. He's so hard, needs her so badly, but will wait for her to come, god, she better come soon.

He doesn't have to wait long at all, it's not more than two minutes before her cries grow even sharper, her hips buck, and she clenches, shuddering underneath him as orgasm overtakes her. The sounds that spill from her lips, and the way her thighs twitch makes him ache for her. He sucks her until her hand pushes him away, her body falling limp against the table.

He undoes his pants, finally relieving that maddening pressure, with a few quick strokes as she recovers. He pushes his pants off, far too wound up to recognize his shirt and tie also need to go. He's stepping out of his briefs when Regina comes back to life, grabbing him by his tie, a move that both shocks and arouses him.

Her shaky fingers start to undo his shirt as he realizes where they are.

He pulls off his tie, and slides out of his shirt, once she's unbuttoned it fully. But when she strokes over him, lining him up with her centre, he stops her.

She looks at him dismayed, "But… we're… you said you loved me."

"I do," he assures, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he grips under her hips to hoist her up, she moans as he does and it only makes him need her more. "I just think you deserve better than on an uncomfortable table and I happen to know this suite must have a very comfy bed somewhere."

Her face softens as he carries her through the suite toward the bedroom, "That it does." She smirks, pausing to rub her nose against his in a way that makes him smile. Then her brow arches as she teases, "Whatever will we do with that bed?"

He groans, pressing his forehead to hers, jostling her for a second to shut the bedroom door behind them. He throws her down onto the bed and christ is she a sight, naked and waiting for him. He groans softly as he climbs the bed, finding her mouth for a hot kiss as his needy cock presses against her.

"Robin, I need you," she pants and he throbs.

He has enough sense to ask, "Are you… do we need anything? I don't want to—" he longs to feel her, but they aren't ready for another child and while there's a pill and a new inside device he has no idea if she has any protection.

"We're good, can you?" she asks, pushing her wetness up onto him, and yes, yes, he wants that, _needs that_.

He brings hand down and guides himself inside her, watching for any signs of discomfort. She moans as he slips inside her and oh boy, it's heaven. He has to take a second once he's all the way inside because she feels fantastic, tight, hot, and wet, if he moves now he's very concerned this will all be over within a couple of thrusts.

She doesn't seem to mind the pause, her hands trail down his back, her lips finding his for languid kisses. She spasms around him, causing shocks of pleasure to rip through him, when he sucks at her lower lip.

He looks into her eyes, finds them full of love, and he kisses her again, trying to express all the love he feels for her in that kiss. When it breaks he whispers, "I love you," then begins to move. He's slow at first, wanting her to get used to the sensation, but then her legs move from lightly around his waist, to one over his shoulder and the other wrapped around him, digging into his thigh, pressing him closer.

"I, l—uh. Oh, I _love you, _too." She pants as her teeth sink into his shoulder, a delicious bite that has him shivering, losing his last shred of control and picking up the pace. He wedges a hand between them, strumming over her clit, knowing that with how close he is, he needs to give her clit attention if he has any chance of outlasting her. She clenches on contact, which makes him groan, and her teeth to dig into him (she's doing a tour of his chest as he tries to maintain some semblance of control in the face of such glory).

She's getting even wetter and tighter against him as he thrusts into her. Her second leg comes up to his shoulder, making her even more open to him. She feels amazing and he's close already. Which is a problem because there's no room for his hand between her thighs at the angle she seems to want, so he focuses on keeping a grinding friction against her clit.

She's doing all these things that make him burn hotter for her, moaning, licking at him, biting at his sensitive spots, pressing him in closer. He finds himself moving faster, chasing his orgasm as she moans and writhes beneath him.

"Mmm, uh, I—" she chokes out before cutting out on a moan.

"You what?" he asks, as he feels his body start to wind tight, being pulled down by how incredible their coupling feels.

"M—mmm—More," she begs and he starts taking her faster. Her head snaps back, and she clenches against him, the movement threatening to pull him under but he holds strong as she grows tighter and tighter. He wants to explode, wants to let go and that urge is building but he knows she's close and if he can just—

Her fingers brush against him, wedging between them, and she's rubbing her clit, crying out immediately, and tremouring, he can feel it, and it only makes him closer. Lord, she needs to come soon, please say she's going to come, he won't last much longer, it's too good.

Everything inside him goes tight, preparing to release and he grits his teeth as she pants, "Mmm, like that… just a little more… I… mmmm."

He tries to calm his breathing (it gives him something to focus on other than the intense urge to release it all) but the distraction doesn't do what it's supposed to. His mind is still fixated on how damn fantastic she feels. He feels the contractions inside his cock and bears down, fighting it. He can feel how close she is, he just needs to hold for another minute, just another.

The pleasure is threatening to pull him under, when she gets even tighter and wetter he loses himself. He forces himself to thrust a few more times, his teeth gritted with effort as she comes on his cock. The third wave pulls him under and euphoria floods him as she finally lets go. The pleasure erupts with each spurt inside of her, until he collapses breathless atop her.

They stay like that for several minutes, as they regain their breath. They end up passing out in a similar state, him plopping down beside her and pulling her naked body tight to his chest. She pulls the covers over them between lazy afterglow kisses and it doesn't take much more for them both to succumb to the seductive pull of sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Inspired by a manip by Jcmlskatia  
Robin and Regina make their first appearance out together as a couple**

* * *

She's nervous, ridiculously so, it's just that things have been so good between her and Robin, and she doesn't want going public to mess that up. It's been over six months since the last time she went to an event with someone. She's only been to two events since Leopold passed, she never enjoyed them to begin with, the exception being this one, Ingrid Fisher's Easter dinner. She doesn't particularly like Mrs. Fisher, but she throws a mean party. It's always an outlandishly extravagant Easter celebration, but the food is incredible, and it's a family affair.

Robin is perhaps a bit casual in his dress pants and checkered shirt, but she'd told him it was a fancier Easter dinner, without explaining how extravagant it is. He should fit in okay though, the venue and decorations are always over the top, but the attire is set as semi-formal, not formal.

Roland looks absolutely adorable, clad in dress pants and a little white dress shirt. She remembers Henry at that age, wearing something similar and ending up with pasta sauce all over his white shirt. She'd stayed away from white for a long time after that, and she hopes they won't have a repeat of that.

Henry's in white tonight, and a little black tie he keeps complaining about that she thinks makes him look dashing, if a bit too grown up.

He found her old camera in the attic when they were spring cleaning and she'd used him wanting to bring it to the party as leverage to get him into what she's bought for him to wear. It's perhaps not the finest parenting but it worked. There will be lots to photograph at the party and she's prepared with extra film she put in the camera case. Henry has barely put it down since he found it three weeks ago, and she's decided if he keeps it up, a new camera and a dark room would be excellent birthday gifts.

He insists on photographing all of them, solo shots first. He takes one of Robin and Roland, and Robin insists on taking one of her and Henry which she appreciates. They'll have to get someone to take a full group shot when they get there, she thinks, as Henry takes his camera back.

"Now you and Mom," Henry tells Robin, and she smiles to herself, knowing she's lucky they get along so well. She's touched Henry thought of taking one of them, then she realizes it will be their first picture together.

Robin comes up behind her, wrapping his hands around her waist. She sets her arms on top of his, snuggling into him and grabbing his right hand in her left. Her fingers hit the watch she bought him for his birthday, the one he had insisted was too much, but now wears every day. She turns her head and flips her hair over her shoulder so it's out of his face and leans in closer. She's glad she's in her heels and not too much shorter than he is, her cheek hitting his chin. She can feel his smile against her face as she smiles and looks at the camera.

She's never really been one to enjoy having her photo taken, but she wants to see this one, wants to have an image to remember this night. She hopes it's a good photo, that they both have their eyes open, but she thinks it will be, from what she's seen so far Henry is an excellent photographer.

"One more," Henry insists and so they stay, frozen in position until the flash goes off again. Robin presses a kiss to her shoulder, before moving to pull away. She turns fully then, pressing her lips to his in a soft peck, nerves fluttering as she realizes this is it, they are about to leave the house and go public, no turning back now.

He must sense her apprehension because he grabs her hand in his, intertwining their fingers and pressing his palm into hers. She pulls his hand up toward her mouth, kissing it softly before letting their hands fall. She takes a slow breath, then squeezes his hand and heads toward the door.

It's a little chilly to be just in her dress, a balmy fifty-three degrees, but they aren't spending any real time outside, going from her garage to the venue. She knows she could check her coat, but the boys aren't bringing jackets, so she doesn't bother.

Robin drives as Roland chatters on, asking Henry what to expect, then speculating wildly about the things they will see. She adores that kid, he's so so cute and his musings provide a welcome distraction.

She knows it's silly to be nervous, the worst that can happen is gossip, and lord knows she's experienced enough of that already to last a lifetime. She can handle the stares and whispers, it shouldn't be bothering her this much.

She regrets her choice not to grab a coat when the valet opens the car door. Robin passes him the keys, and she fights the urge to shiver. If she was with Leo she'd be inside already, but she wants to wait for Robin.

He connects their hands again, asks her, "Ready?"

She swallows and nods. They walk in hand in hand, the boys just in front of them, and nobody bats an eye. They walk around, finding the kid's spots, she's relieved to see Roland and Henry are sitting beside each other. They are only two tables over, and she will be able to keep an eye on the boys which she likes. She always hated when she was stuck all the way across the room from her son and just had to hope he was doing okay. She gets why they have kid's tables but she would prefer kids sit with their parents.

Henry asks if he can out and photograph some of the exterior, so she tells Roland he can stay with them or go with Henry. She's not at all surprised when he chooses to go off exploring with Henry. They get a warning not to wander off too far and a reminder dinner starts in forty-five minutes so they need to be back in half an hour.

When the kids go off, she and Robin sit down in their spots. She looks to see who is to her left, and her heart stops.

Mary Margaret Blanchard.

She knew it couldn't be this simple, that she wouldn't be granted a nice first night with Robin. This was a mistake, she shouldn't have brought him here, her step-daughter is going to freak out.

Shoot, shoot, she doesn't know what to do. Maybe she should try and find her, warn her.

"What's wrong?" Robin asks lowly.

"You know how I told you Mary Margaret, Leo's daughter, hasn't been taking his death well and went away…" He nods. "Well, she's apparently back, and _here_."

"Are you worried she'll cause a scene?"

She scoffs, she _knows_ Mary Margaret will cause a scene. This, this is why she didn't want to do this. Things were going so well.

"Love, what's the problem?" he asks. "She had to find out we were together some time."

"Yes, sometime, in the future, the distant future."

He frowns, and great, in addition to whatever hell Mary Margaret is going to put her through, she's also somehow starting a fight.

There's an edge to his voice that wasn't there before. "Let me get this straight, the whole time we were talking about going public and how I couldn't wait to be done with the secrets, you were plotting how to still keep us under wraps."

"No! It's not like that."

"I think it's exactly like that. Just admit it, you are ashamed of me. You'd like nothing more than for me to be your dirty little secret forever."

She huffs, and ugh, this is not what she wanted, and that is not what she thinks. It's offensive he even thinks it; she has never ever acted like she's ashamed of him. "Do you really think so little of me?"

His face twists, and now he's the one who looks offended, and good, he should be. "What are you talking about?"

She has to fight not to raise her voice, to keep her irritation off of her face. "You are equating me wanting to have _one_ good night out with being ashamed of you, and it's offensive. I've told you I love you and I'm in this, and apparently that means _nothing _to you."

"I…" He stammers. She's flustered him, and good, he should be. "I didn't—that's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

"I just… I jumped the gun, okay? I'm sorry, I'm nervous, too, you know? I don't fit in this world."

Oh, that's what this is about, that she can handle. She sets her hand on his thigh, squeezing reassuringly. "I have never cared about that."

"I can't help it, you not wanting us to be us around anyone you knew, it made, no, it makes me insecure. I know why, but it's still hard for me, especially when you get nervous about people seeing us together—"

She shuts him up by kissing him soundly. It's a little awkward at first, her having caught him with his mouth open about to keep talking, but he recovers quickly, kissing her back deeply.

She pulls away to arch a brow at him and ask, "Feel better?"

She's pleased when he nods and pulls her in for one more, it's softer than the first one, probably more appropriate for the public. The point is made anyway, they are _together_ together, he's not just some friend she brought to keep her company.

The sound of a glass breaking pulls her from the moment. She looks over to see Mary Margaret standing with her mouth open in shock, broken glass and red wine around her feet.

It's not exactly the scene she thought her step-daughter would make, but she's sure that's coming.

She expects Robin to ask who she is, is about to confirm his suspicions when she remembers he already knows what she looks like from her late husband.

He squeezes her thigh, echoing her supportive gesture from earlier. She takes a breath, knowing this is going to be a disaster, before standing up. She wants to get Mary Margaret out of the main room, find somewhere quiet where they can talk so there's less of a scene.

That doesn't happen.

Mary Margaret storms over to her, meeting her in the centre of the room before bellowing, "How could you?" with tears streaming down her face.

"Snow, why don't we go somewhere where we can talk privately?" she says using her step-daughter's nickname in an attempt to garner some support from her. It feels foreign on her tongue, after years of calling her by her actual name because 'nicknames were for children.'

It doesn't work and Mary Margaret merely glowers at her before wiping her tears from her face and smearing her make-up.

"No! I'm not going anywhere with _you_. You, you, you harlot, traipsing around here with some new man when my father _just died_. How could you?"

He didn't just die, but she knows better than to argue that point when Mary Margaret is this upset. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way, but please calm down. You are causing a scene."

She looks around for emphasis so Mary Margaret can see all of the people that aren't even bothering to hide the fact that they are staring at them. She catches Robin's eye and hopes her gaze communicates that he should stay out.

"I'm causing a scene, me. Really? No, you are the one causing a scene by bringing this man here, dishonouring my father. It's disgraceful."

"Stop it! If you want to discuss this rationally we can, but I will not tolerate you speaking to me this way."

"Oh, that's rich. You are the galvanting off with strange men, showing the world how little regard you had for my poor father. Did you even wait for the body to get cold before taking him to bed?"

That one stings more than the others, because it's somewhat true. The timing of when she met Robin was unfortunate, and she did act a bit loose that night but that is none of Mary Margaret's business. What Mary Margaret says next makes her jaw drop. "Whore about in your own bedroom, don't bring it out, flaunting in my face how happy you are my father is gone."

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response. You are acting like it's been six days and not six months. I understand that you are still upset over the loss of your father, but that does not give you the right to say these things to me."

"You disgust me. Take that… that _trash_ and get out of here. He is not welcome and neither are you."

Oh, how she wants to scream at her, tell her right off, but now is (unfortunately) not the time. "Do not say things like that about him!"

"Well, where'd you find him, huh? Does he even know you're a widow? One that should still be grieving her husband. Johanna always said you were easy and only in it for my father's money—"

"That's enough!" This is ridiculous and going nowhere. She's so so lucky Henry went off with Roland to explore and hasn't been here to witness this, but she knows it's only a matter of time. "Think what you will about _me,_ but I brought your brother. Do you really want him to see this?"

Mary Margaret pauses for a second, looking around the room. "Henry's here?"

"Yes, he is. Just like every other year."

"I…" she finally seems to recognize the scene she's caused and her cheeks flush. "This isn't over, Regina."

Of course it isn't, that would be too simple, and when is her life ever simple? But at least this seems to mean it's done, for now.

They both stay standing awkwardly, she doesn't want to walk away if Mary Margaret isn't done, but also does not want to be standing here anymore. Thankfully, Mary Margaret turns and strides off toward the restroom allowing Regina to slink back to her seat. She longs to make a snappy comment at all the people staring, but she won't, no matter how tempting it is.

"Love, are you okay?" Robin asks as she sits down beside him. She sees Ingrid Fisher making her way over. She cannot get one minute of peace, can she?

"Yes," she replies quickly, flashing him a tight smile before turning her attention to Ingrid.

"That was quite… something," Ingrid remarks as she plucks the placecard from Regina's left, replacing Mary Margaret Blanchard with Cruella DeVil, not Regina's favourite person but she's never been happier to see that name before.

Ingrid starts to stride off as Regina says, "Thank you, I'm sorry about that."

She stops, cocking a brow at Regina. "Why would you be sorry?" Then marches across the room before she can respond.

"Yeah, why would you be sorry?"

She sighs, she just wants to be done with this, "Because that's what you say when you are a person involved in a scene like that, it's polite."

"But you did nothing wrong."

"I know that," she says, sighing again. "Can we please just forget about this and try to have an okay rest of our night?"

Robin is Robin, so he agrees. "Of course, beautiful, whatever you need."

"Thank you."

They sit for a second, her trying to ignore all the stares and whispers, and also calm the frustration that wants to bubble over. The boys come back and they chat with them for a minute, before the boys take their places at their table. Henry's best friend Ethan is seated there too and it makes her happy that they draw Roland into their conversation.

Cruella makes her way over to their table drinks in hand, blocking her view of the boys for a moment. "Darling, you look like you need a drink, and you too, handsome," she says in lieu of a real greeting.

Regina doesn't mind though, not when Cruella drops her two untouched Gin and Tonics in front of them and heads back to the bar.

She downs hers in one gulp, shuddering a little as she does, not used to drinking like this. Robin follows suit and follows her to the bar for another drink. They do a shot and order an actual drink each. She starts to feel the alcohol a little while later, and the evening gets far more enjoyable the more she drinks. Robin eases off after that third drink, saying someone has to be responsible and get them home. He's not wrong, that was always her with Leopold. She's no longer concerned about getting drunk and making a fool of herself because it can't be worse than what already happened.

Cruella is thrilled by how she's drinking, and they actually start to hit it off. Cruella is much funnier and less obnoxious when she's inebriated. More than once she catches Robin shaking his head at them. She swears he gets even more attractive the more she drinks, and she has to restrain herself from making inappropriate suggestions.

When it's time to go home her head is spinning a bit. Robin's arm secures around her waist, anchoring her as they walk out to the car. She leans in, loving the feel of him. He tires to help her into the car, and Henry laughs at her when she fumbles a little, after insisting she was fine. She probably shouldn't have had so much with her son around, but it's too late now, and it's not like he hasn't seen drunk people before.

Still, she keeps quiet on the drive back, not that it does much good because Henry makes a quip at her expense when Robin grabs a sleeping Roland from the car. She just glares at him but is glad Robin has the keys, because she's sure Henry would have had something to say about how she unlocked the door.

Henry runs upstairs to put his camera away, Robin following him to put Roland to bed in the spare room.

She pours herself some water, hoping to help ward off the headache she's due for in the morning. Then she goes to her room and waits for Robin so she can show him just how good she thinks he looks tonight.


	7. Chapter 7

It's been just over a month since the incident with Mary Margaret. Things seemed to finally be settling down; she doesn't get the glances and whispers she's become accustomed to at the grocery store. She thinks it probably would have blown over sooner if Mary Margaret hadn't seen Robin the week after at the hotel and realized what he did for a living. She changed the narrative from Regina dishonouring her father by whoring around with a strange man to Regina dishonouring her father by whoring around with a lowly bartender who was out to steal her fortune.

You would think it was 1820 not 1969. It's ridiculous how old fashioned their sect of society still is, no one Robin knew batted an eye at them but everyone in her circle did a double-take when they realized Robin was "just a bartender."

She knows some of the neighbourhood ladies think it's just a phase, that she's dating down to get it out of her system. It's infuriating, and they are wrong, but she knows only time will show them that. She doesn't really care what they think, she'd prefer not to be the centre of attention, but it's been a rather dull season gossip wise so she's had to wait for the next big thing to take her off the radar.

She doesn't let any of it bother her, refuses to let it get under her skin.

Until it affects her son, then she sees red.

Henry had been pulling away slowly after the dinner, going back to how he was in the wake of Leopold's death, quiet and keeping to himself. She'd thought it had been a resurgence of grief or perhaps just him getting older. She never once imagined what was really going on.

It was only when they started to talk about summer plans—her wanting to know if Ethan (his best friend) had invited him up to his family's summer home the first week off of school, like every year for the last six years—that he finally told her.

He hadn't even told her the whole story then, just said that he and Ethan were no longer friends, then went upstairs and shut himself in his room. She was at a bit of a loss, her gut telling her something was really wrong. When she saw Archie, her neighbor and a child psychologist, walk by on his way home with his dog, she decided to ask him his opinion. She'd bothered him more than once since Leopold's death, though he always swore it was not a bother.

He'd suggested it could be something more serious, and he was right.

Henry's being bullied. Her son is being bullied, because of her. It's awful, frustrating, and heartbreaking. She aches for him, for what he's been going through. Guilt rips through her as she remembers what he told her, how it all started after that dinner. How Greg, a classmate he'd never liked, witnessed what happened between her and Mary Margaret and started telling everyone at school how Henry's mother was a whore.

It's one thing for her choices and what happened to impact her, but for her son to bear the brunt of it all, is torture.

She doesn't know what to do, just holds him and tells him she's sorry. He tells her she didn't do anything wrong, that his friends are stupid for taking Greg's side, and he's not wrong, at least about that last part, but it does nothing to quell the guilt she feels.

She asks Archie to talk to Henry about it, seeks out his advice on how to proceed. She's not pleased when he tells her there's nothing really she can do but support Henry., that any of her efforts to make it better will likely backfire and make things worse for him.

Henry refuses to tell his teacher, says there's nothing to tell; there's no violence, it's just kids saying bad things and ignoring him at recess. While she's beyond relieved no one has put their hands on her son, she's still livid that this is happening. Furious with the kids, with their parents, with the school, with Mary fucking Margaret for starting this whole thing.

And she's upset, desperately upset that Henry is being isolated like this, burning up inside that it's because of her. She feels helpless, powerless and she has to do something. She cannot take this happening to her baby, she can't.

She does whatever she can to put a smile on his face. She makes all of his favourite foods, desserts, lets him stay up past his bedtime, and watch tv directly after school. On the weekend she takes him to the museum, the aquarium. She lets him skip school on Monday so the two of them can go to the zoo. She buys four tickets to a Yankee's game on Sunday, an event she never thought she'd attend. She tries to think of every little thing he ever wanted, so she can give it to him.

When Henry stops Archie so he can pet Pongo and tells him how he's always wanted a dog, she knows what to do next. She intends to ask around about breeders, but when she's on the phone with Robin that night and he tells her his friend runs an animal shelter, they pick a time to go.

He's working the rest of the week so they decide to go Saturday, will bring the new dog home (if Henry finds one he likes) and have a sleepover before the game Sunday.

She's a terrible parent for doing it, but it isn't the worst thing she's ever done, and it will make him happy.

She tells him Friday morning they are going to look for a family dog on Saturday, and he smiles so broadly hugs her so tightly that her eyes water. It takes everything in her not break down when he says how this way he'll always have a friend.

She cries her eyes out once he's on the bus and can't see it; she hates this, hates it. It shouldn't have to come to this. Henry should not have to feel like this. She's tried to hide how affected she is by it, but she knows he's probably being brave for her. He's stayed relatively positive throughout, knows he didn't do anything wrong, is more angry the kids are being stupid and trashing his mom than mad at himself. He's not angry at her which, frankly, he should be; she deserves it. But she's so so grateful he's not, that she can give him these small comforts.

He's all excited chatter about their new dog and how much he can't wait to bring it home and shower it with love as they drive to Robin's. They pick up Robin and Roland and head down to the shelter, and neither parent can get in a word in because of the boy's excitement.

Roland wants Henry to get a big dog, bigger than him, an idea that horrifies Regina. She lets out a little sigh of relief when Henry says he wouldn't get a dog bigger than Pongo. He walks Pongo from time to time, and a few years ago after Pongo saw a squirrel he had to have, he escaped from Henry's grasp, an incident that apparently left its mark.

They arrive at Sherwood Shelter, managing to find parking right out front. It features a painted slogan across the window and she laughs as she reads, "We steal from the rich to give to the animals." There's a small disclaimer under that says they don't actually steal that makes the whole thing even funnier to her. It's the first time she's laughed since she found out about Henry, and it's a welcome feeling.

"Will does have a sense of humour," Robin remarks as he comes over to the driver's side to take her hand.

"Papa, I wanna see Uncle Will, _come on_!" Roland says in that cute, drawn out way of an impatient child.

"You guys can go ahead," Robin says, and both Roland and Henry rush off into the shelter building.

"How are you doing, love?" Robin asks as the hand not clasped in hers brushes through her hair, catching on a little knot he then pulls through.

"I'm… this is a good day. Let's just focus on that."

He presses a kiss to her brow as he says, "Okay."

The boys are already inside a small gated area with a swarm of little dogs around them. It's absolutely adorable, and she grabs Henry's camera (his new one she got him last week) from where it's sitting on a side table and snaps a few photos.

She meets Will and he tells her about the dog in Henry's arms, the one that's nipping at Roland's sleeve. They are all adorable. When she comments on that, she learns he keeps the bigger dogs in a separate room, which makes a lot of sense.

"Uncle Will, can we see the big dogs, please? Pretty please, Uncle Will?" Roland asks with those adorable pleading eyes that no one is immune to.

"Sure, buddy, but not alone. You have to wait for me, okay?"

"Yay! You are the bestest, Uncle Will."

She and Robin both laugh at that. She watches as Henry approaches a corner, she's confused for a moment until she sees a tiny little dog cowering until the table.

"Hey, buddy, it's okay," Henry tells the dog in a soft voice that makes her heart warm. He has such a good heart, why can't the other kids see that? He's a kind and giving soul, always sees the best in people. Anyone would be lucky to have a friend like him.

She pushes away the rage that starts to bubble inside her and focuses on how Henry attempts to draw the scared dog out.

"She's a shy one," Will tells him. "She's very sweet and loving once she's comfortable. She's great with all the staff, but that did take a while. She struggles with new people, and it's sad because she's such a sweetheart but people don't get to see it."

Henry tries to draw her out for a few more minutes unsuccessfully. Will offers to scoop her out so he can hold her, but Henry refuses, not wanting to make her more scared.

He decides he, too, wants to see the big dogs, so Will leads the two boys off to the next room.

Robin looks at her mischievously, and she's about to ask what he's up to, but then he opens the gate and the dogs flood over to them. Eight dogs come close, two hanging back with the scared one.

Robin gets down on one knee and she starts to do the same but decides it would be easier just to sit on the floor. She starts to pet one dog and three more get up close to her, one half hidden between a bigger one that starts to lick her hand. The white fluffy one crawls onto her lap, so she uses her other hand to pet its soft fur.

Robin apparently gets too close to the one by him because it barks sharply as he extends his hand closer.

These dogs are all so cute. She hopes Henry picks one of them, perhaps one of the five brown and white ones that seem to all be from the same litter. Or this white one, that's made itself at home on her lap.

The yappy one barks again at Robin, then nips at his face, causing Robin to jolt away with a, "Whoa." She told herself before coming she'd accept whichever one Henry wants, but she'll have to veto if he picks that one. She can't have a dog that bites.

She picks up the white one as she stands and and it snuggles up in her arms in a way that makes her hope Henry will pick this dog.

She's still holding her (she doesn't know for sure, but she's decided that she must be a girl given how well behaved she is) when the boys come back from the big dog room. Bellowing barks follow their exits, but it's silent in the room, save for that yappy dog Robin likes for some reason. The soundproofing is excellent in the space she realizes, a very good thing for their neighbors.

Henry goes straight for the hiding dog. Lucky is her name. A stupid name if you ask her but Henry seems to like it. He stays crouched by her listening to Will's stories about her and history, just sitting there not moving not looking at her. Eventually, Lucky sniffs the hand Henry has slightly outstretched and his face lights up in a huge smile as he tells her what a good girl she is.

"I want Lucky," Henry tells them and while she's not exactly surprised given how much time he spent with her she is curious why.

"Nobody will want her because she's different. Will said she's been here for the longest because she's so shy. She needs a home and a bit of patience. I want to get her to trust me to see her come out of her shell."

Her eyes water as he continues. "She just needs one friend and I thought we could be that for each other."

"Lucky it is," she says, smiling broadly to try and hide the tears.

"You made a great choice," Robin tells him, patting him on the back.

Roland disagrees, "She's so boring."

"Just wait Ro, she's nice, she needs some time then you'll see."

Roland doesn't seem to believe him, shaking his head vigorously but Henry's insistent.

Henry's right, Lucky—who he refused to rename despite her many better suggestions—is an incredible dog once she comes out of her shell. She's such a sweetheart the neighborhood kids start to talk to Henry again, asking questions about his new dog and inviting them out to the park.

Ethan calls the first day at the summer home by himself and says sorry. Asks if Henry would consider coming up. If it were her she'd have spit in his face, but Henry is a much better person and easily forgives his friend.

She drives him up warily, promising he can call anytime and she'll come get him immediately. But he doesn't ask for that, instead tells her he's having the best time every night when they talk on the phone. Ethan asks if he can come back with Henry when he's due to leave and she lets him even though she's still angry he abandoned his friend of so many years.

She hears them talking one night, is about to tell them to turn off the light and go to bed, when she hears Ethan saying sorry again, telling Henry how Greg threatened to tell everyone he tried to kiss him if he didn't pull away. Henry tells him it's okay, that liking boys is nothing to be ashamed of. Ethan denies it and Henry says whether or not it's true liking whoever you Iike is fine. She doesn't know how her son turned out so well, but boy, is she thankful, and so proud of him. She thinks there may be some truth to what Greg threatened Ethan with, or at least that there is more going on than she was privy to and let's go of her last bit of anger against the confused kid.


	8. Chapter 8

She's mad at him, he can tell from the way she says, "Oh," in that flat tone as he tells her over the phone he can't attend the event she wants him to next month. It's another no kid's one, and he's already been to two of those, is going to a third next week, and he just can't keep doing them. The weekends are his only guaranteed time with his son, and she knows that, but yet she keeps trying to take that time away. Yes it's summer so he has a bit more time with him, but it's never enough.

The events are also not enjoyable, he has to dress up in uncomfortable clothes he really can't afford, then gets mocked for wearing the same suit back to back. Of course, Regina's response when she found out about that had been to take him shopping, as if that would solve everything. For someone so smart, she is remarkably blind when it comes to recognizing the disparity of their situations. He'd nearly choked on his coffee one morning in the spring when she remarked casually about redoing the backyard, putting in a pool, hot tub and deck, spending more on it than he made in a year, and how the estimate was cheaper than she'd expected. Then there was the charity dinners, the five star restaurants, the getting a hotel room without a thought so they could spend the night together. She spends money like it means nothing, while he celebrates when stingy bar patrons give him a ten on their hundred dollar tabs.

He's not struggling, he lives on what he makes, has enough for his apartment, for food, to get to work, to buy clothes and toys for Roland, but that's really it. There isn't room in his budget for the kind of life she leads, especially with all the time she's been asking him to take off of work. It's not sustainable, and he's a bit resentful she doesn't see that.

Then to top it off, all of the high society people (with the exception of Cruella who just wants a drinking buddy) look down on him, mock his outfits, his job, do a bang up job of making him feel out of place—not that he really wants to feel at home with people like that. He'd gotten into it with several men at an event on the weekend for the fourth, about the Stonewall riots. He knows it probably would have been best to let it go, but dammit, that is not who he is, and he will not standby and listen to homophobic comments without saying something. Regina had been annoyed at him then too, even though she also hated the comments. She claimed it wasn't worth it, that they'll never change people's minds, but if everyone thought that way society would never progress. Problematic, dominant views have to be challenged. She didn't seem to understand that it was a privilege to be able to sit back and say leave it be.

"What do you have going on that day?" she asks him, and he sighs, knowing she wasn't going to let this go that easy just because he said no, though she should.

"It's not that I have plans—"

"Then what? Do you not want to spend time with me?"

"It's not you…" he wishes he could see her face, to be able to gauge what he should say, how she's reacting. Her voice is so expressive, but he normally relies on her various non-verbal cues to suss out how she's feeling when there's silence.

"You were the one that wanted us to go public, and what, now that it's real you don't want to be seen with me?"

This again, every time he expresses the slightest hesitation about events, for valid reasons, she guilts him with this and it's time that ends.

"For god's sake, Regina, _enough_ with that—"

"Excuse me?" she bites off sharply, her tone rising with each syllable.

"You heard me. Now if you had let me explain…"

"Explain what, huh? You are allowed to accuse me of not wanting to be seen with you, but I so much as suggest you are feeling that way and you fly off the handle."

That is not what happened, and also she was grossly offended the _one time_ he expressed his fear. To turn it back on him like this, use it as ammo against him is cruel and unfair. "If anyone is flying off the handle right now it's you!"

"You cannot be serious," she hisses but oh, he is.

"I am, and what I don't understand is why you are getting upset with me. What the hell did I do?"

"Stop being thick, Robin."

"I'm not being thick, I have no idea what has you in such a tizzy."

"Oh, _that's rich_. You started this, not me."

"What are you talking about?" he bellows, trying to keep the anger at bay, but failing as it rises through him.

"You made me go public—"

Oh no, no. "I did _not_ 'make you_.'_ We agreed and ever since you've wanted to take it back, just admit it."

"Maybe _I have_! So what?"

That hurts. "So what, really? That's what you think of us? Nice to know how little this relationship means to you."

"That's not what I meant—"

"It's what you said. You _just _said you wanted to take back us going public."

"Have you not seen what my son has endured because of it? How on God's green Earth can you be upset at me for wanting to take that pain away?"

Why isn't she listening? "That's not what I'm—"

"No, you _listen to me_ for a minute. You wanted this, but as it's turned out, you've realized it's not all fun and games and you want out. Well guess what? We are adults, Robin, not everything we get to do is fun. That's life, you deal."

He's still stuck on the 'you want out', "I never said I wanted out."

"You didn't have to, I've seen how antsy you are to leave the events and now you are flat out not going a—"

"If you were paying any attention you would have realized the reason I don't want to be there is because everyone is talking about me. You may be used to that, but I'm not—"

"Whoa, what is _that _supposed to mean?" she challenges, and he can practically see the glare she'd be throwing him if they were together right now.

"I think you know."

"Don't be a coward, say it!"

God, he's so angry he wants to scream, and a bitter sarcastic tone pops out instead. "Young wife of an old man, I'm sure there were some rumours about you."

Her voice is colder than he's ever heard it, "How. Dare. You."

He went too far, but the point is, "I hate those people, and I don't think you really like them either, at least, God, I hope not, so I don't understand why we have to go to these damn things in the first place."

"It's part of the deal, Robin, but you know what? Fine. I see now the disregard you have for my friends and society—" oh, that's rich considering how they all treat him and anyone of a lower economic class "—Why do you act like I should be shouting from the rooftops that you are a bartender? You say I'm ashamed, but that's not it. I'm not broadcasting it because it's not like it's an accomplishment. You aren't a doctor or a lawyer in a profession to brag about."

"I'm not asking you to do _that_, but it would be nice if you stuck up for me for once."

"I do stick up for you, but I also know that some people will never change the way they are, so it's not worth it."

He stands up from his chair needing to move but hindered by the phone cord, which only adds to his agitation. "If everyone thought like that nothing would ever change."

"Not everything needs to be a fight, Robin. That's not who I am, I pick my battles. You said you wanted to be with me but you don't, you want to be with some version of me that doesn't exist. I've already given up so much for you, I can't believe you'd ask for more."

"You've given up, _you_?"

"Yes."

"You don't know _anything _about giving things up. You know what I've given up _for you_? Time with my son, when I told you that was important to me. I know you don 't get it, but most of us work for a living, that already takes me away from him far more than I'd want. Just because you've lived in a privileged bubble your whole life doesn't mean you should be blind to how the world works. Wake up, Regina."

"Wake up? You don't think I've suffered, that I don't know what sacrifice is? I gave up my freedom for my father and my son. I have sacrificed more in my life then you ever will, so don't tell me to wake up."

"I'm not talking about that."

"You know what, I don't care. You think I haven't given up and you are wrong. Just look at what I've had to deal with the past few months. It's because of you, so stop being such an idiot."

He's so sick and tired of this misplaced blame. "Not me, your daughter-in-law. Mary Margaret, does that name ring a bell? She is the reason all of that happened, not me. So stop blaming me for that. I am not your punching bag; you don't get to explode at me because your solution was to get loaded rather than deal with the issue with your stepdaughter."

"Is that really what you think of me and what happened?"

"I think that it's been two months and you still haven't talked to her about it, so what else am I supposed to think?"

"You are supposed to trust me and my judgment, but you don't, do you? And since I'm just a naive, spoiled brat, why would you, right?"

Ugh, that is not at all what he said and if she would just listen for once she'd know that, but instead she's continuing her rant, "Well, I have news for you, Robin, you are being a jerk. I know what I'm doing. I will not take you questioning my every move. You don't get to try and change who I am. I already had a man who tried to dictate who I was as a person. I didn't stand for it then, and I am sure as hell not standing for it now."

"I've never goddamn asked you to do that! All I asked was that you open your eyes and realize there's more going on here."

"You know what Robin, fuck you. I can't believe I ever thought this was going to work out when you treat me like this. Glad I've finally seen your true colours, at least this time I'm getting out before it's too late."

"I haven't—" he's cut off by the dial tone as he fumes over the fact that she swore at and hung up on him. Regina doesn't swear, so she must be livid, even though she has no reason to be, this was all her fault.

He calls back but he can't get through, and he just knows she took the phone off the hook to avoid his calls.

He's glad Roland is asleep as he sits and stews in his anger. He pours himself a drink to calm his rolling emotions, only to remember he just accused Regina of doing that and a very petty part of him decides he will not use _her _methods. So instead he sits and stews, waiting for the phone to ring with an apology he won't accept, but expects. He waits and waits, but it never comes. He finally heads up to bed hours later, wondering to himself how it devolved into this, but vowing he will not be the first to crack.

* * *

"Still no call?" August, Robin's friend and fellow bartender, asks sympathetically, and he shakes his head. "If you are so miserable you could call her, you know."

He rolls his eyes, yes, he is well aware the phone works two ways. It's just he did call, once, and listened to it ring four times before he lost his nerve and hung up. Half of him is glad she hadn't answered because calling was probably a mistake, but the other half of him is clinging to hope that it isn't over, that it was just a fight they could get past, even though it's already been eight days. The last he'd heard from her had been a short message she left at the hotel for him, asking that he not attend the event on the weekend and to not contact her. The first was not really a hardship for him since he hated those things, but the second cut him deeply. Up until then he hadn't even contemplated that she actually thought it was over. It was only in reading the transcribed message that he realized she was far more serious in her last comment to him than he'd thought. He'd been expecting a call from her that he never got, instead, he got a message to stay away.

That's why he won't call, she's made her feelings perfectly clear. Though it's awful, it's likely for the best given all the obstacles in their path. It was never going to work out between someone so rich and him, they came from such different backgrounds and he thought she understood his situation, but she showed him that she either did not understand or did not care, and he's not sure which is worse.

His only distraction apart from his son is the Apollo 11 mission. Man is finally going to land on the moon, he can feel it, it's going to work, what's he's been dreaming about seeing since he was a teenager. He is equal parts happy it's happening now, to give him something else to focus on, and annoyed that his heartbreak is keeping him from fully enjoying it.

It's just he'd been planning on asking her to marry him, and would have sooner had it not been for the incident with Mary Margaret and Henry's subsequent struggles. He realizes it's probably better that he hadn't, but he also can't help but wonder if things would be different if he asked her earlier.

"Seriously dude, just call her," August urges as he wipes the bartop. "I'm sick of seeing you so down."

"Gee thanks, thought you were my friend."

"I am your friend and that's why I'm giving it to you straight. She's stubborn, you're stubborn, and it's a recipe for disaster."

He shakes his head at August and is flagged by a customer. As he opens the scotch and pours two glasses for the gentleman and his companion, August tells him, "I'm just saying it doesn't have to be that way, times are changing. Don't let something stupid like different curcumstances hold you back. If you fight hard enough you can make it through anything."

August and his partner Merlin are living proof of that. It's true he and Regina don't have half the obstacles they do. As biracial gay couple they face judgment, prejudice and sadly violence at nearly every turn. He doesn't understand how people can be so awful. People are people and should be with who they want, and he's never met a better couple than Merlin and August. They have what he aspired to and entirely failed at having with Regina, a completely open and honest relationship without conflict.

He doesn't want to downplay what August is saying so he reminds him, "She's made it perfectly clear that she doesn't want to hear from me."

"Has she though?" August queries, and he has to wait until they've both served customers to answer.

"She said she was glad to be getting out and told me not to attend that event."

"Robin, listen," August says as he throws him a rag to wipe a spill off of the bar, "I will be there for you, for whatever you need, if it's really over. But what I'm not going to do is sit here and watch you mope when I know you haven't given every effort to fix things. You gotta talk to her, man. If it's really over, so be it, but you don't go down without a fight, and right now you aren't fighting."

Maybe August is right. He should at least speak to her before throwing in the towel. But would she really take his call? And how humiliating would it be for her to have to tell him again not to contact her?

He tops off the spilled drink, the man flashing him a grateful smile that will hopefully to a decent tip. "You may be onto something, but it's not going to happen tonight so…"

"I'll drop it after this last thing. You love her and you have a ring, that's an awful lot to throw away over one fight."

August is the only one who knows about the ring, well other than Granny. He'd needed to talk to someone after she gave it to him, and August is one of his closest friends, plus he had been working with him the night after and had known something was up with him. Sometimes, like right now, he hates that August knows him so well. Other bartenders would have let him be, not pushed toward a conversation that terrifies him.

The fact that it terrifies him is why it probably needs to happen. But it's not going to happen tonight, he's on until lord knows when, then he's getting up early to watch the Apollo 11 launch on his TV. So maybe tomorrow, after a nap, but then if it's going to go poorly he wouldn't want Roland to hear that, so maybe at night, if he doesn't go to bed early. Really, it can wait as long as he needs—it's already been this long, what's a bit longer?


	9. Chapter 9

She can't believe she's doing this. This is not her; she does not come crawling back. But she'd been watching the Apollo launch with Henry this morning, and all she could think of was Robin—she'd wondered what he was thinking, imaging the broad smile that would be on his face as he watched a dream of his start to come true. Henry kept asking her questions Robin would have known the answers to and telling these little tidbits about the mission she knows he got from Robin.

Man is going to land on the moon next week, and that means their problems can't be insurmountable.

So she's sneaking off, after Roland's bedtime, leaving Henry in Archie's care, to go talk to Robin. If she's not back by his bedtime, he'll be spending the night at Archie's, and the only way she gets home before then is if Robin refuses to see her, then she may want some time alone anyway, so she'd wished her son goodnight before she left. She doesn't know what to say to Robin if he lets her, he hurt her, deeply but she knows she hurt him too. She's not dumb, and she knows herself well enough to know that she has a temper and gets defensive when she feels threatened. She didn't mean the awful things she said, so maybe he didn't either, and she has to know for sure. She's not letting this go without knowing what he meant, what he feels for her, if their relationship is at all salvageable.

She knocks on the door, sees his curtains shift, then hears his footsteps coming toward the doorway.

When she sees his beautiful face, worn with pain and exhaustion, all she can think is how much she loves this man, and that they _have_ to be able to work it out.

He looks stunned to see her, blinks harshly as if he can't believe it's real that she's here. "Regina," he breathes slowly, his one hand shooting out to stop the door from swinging shut.

She wraps her arms around him, her limbs moving without her thinking, pulling him into her, burying her face in his chest and inhaling that smoky pine smell of his. He steps back, and she hears the door swing shut behind her. She manages to choke out an, "I'm sorry," as she loses herself to the feeling of being in his arms, praying this won't be the last time she feels this.

"God, love, me too, I'm so sorry."

She looks up into his blue eyes, full of emotion, then his lips descend toward hers. She tilts her chin up more, and he's kissing her, it's a little off, a little too rough, they are out of sync in a way they haven't been before. He walks backward, leading her out of the entryway and into his apartment. Her feet are moving, but she can't focus on anything other than the feel of his lips on hers, hot and needy. The end up in his bedroom as hands begin to roam and wander. His hands clench at her rear, pressing her closer into where he's already hard for her, and she lets out a desperate little moan, her hands under his shirt, digging into his back. She tugs at his shirt, gets it off before moving her hands to his rear and giving it a squeeze.

Maybe they shouldn't be using sex to solve their problems, but as he nips harshly at her neck (she'll have marks to cover, no doubt), she gasps an, "Ohh," that only makes him nip harder, makes her want him even more. Their hands have not stopped moving, touching every inch of each other. She is all nails, and he's all teeth, and that bite of pain seems to be turning him on as much as it is her. This rough, desperate foreplay is not what they usually do, but it's amping everything up, making it more, and she craves him, needs him even closer, her nails gouging into his biceps as he descends down her chest.

He presses her into the wall, his whole body tight against hers so she can't move. She wraps her legs around his waist, her arms around his and together they hoist her up, as he takes her mouth in a fierce and bruising kiss. She can feel him hard against her, can now rock where she's already so wet against his erection. She wants him inside her, _now_. She needs to feel him, needs to reconnect with him in this way. She almost lost this, and it makes everything that much more intense, has her on edge faster than ever before.

They are both breathing hard as the kiss breaks, and he's looking at her like he wants to devour her, which only makes it all hotter. She grabs tighter around his neck with her one hand, letting her nails dig in for a second as he groans and bucks his hips into her. Lord, that's hot, as is the way he's blazing kisses across her chest, his one hand groping her rear in tight squeezes, the other coming up under her shirt and seeking out stiff nipples. She cries out as he twists it, harder than usual, but it's _so good_, it makes her wetter, and she can feel how damp her panties are.

She nearly loses her mind and her balance when he lowers his mouth to the chest of her dress and bites roughly. She moans and bucks forward, his body keeping her from toppling over. The fabric dulls the sensation enough that while it hurts, it's that good hurt, the kind that they both seem to need tonight. Her one hand guides his mouth to the other more sensitive side, and he's a little gentler this time, but it still has her moaning and desperate.

"Mmm, Robin, please, I…" it feels so fantastic she's having trouble putting words together to ask for what she needs. She lets her actions speak for her, wedging a hand between them so she can undo his pants.

He rests his forehead on hers, panting, as he tells her, "God, I _want you_ so bad."

She gets his pants undone, pushing them down as far as she can reach, before pulling him out of his boxers. "Me too, need you inside me."

He groans at that, and it's so erotic she wants to hear it again, then she strokes him firmly and is rewarded with that same guttural groan that sends shocks down to her core. Her clit is throbbing as he tries to pull her panties off, but well, he's in the way. She doesn't want to have to wait any longer, doesn't want to bother with taking them off, so she pushes them to the side and rubs his tip against her. It feels incredible, he's so hard, and she's so wet, rubbing him against her clit drives her anticipation even higher.

"You're so wet," he breathes lowly, gasping as she slides him down from her clit to her opening, then arching a bit, so he slips inside. Just that little bit of him inside her is enough to make her go crazy. She clenches and moans, throwing her head back against the wall. He must feel the same because he thrusts in quickly, both gasping as he hits her deep. He nibbles at her neck as he pulls back slowly, then crashes his mouth to hers and starts taking her hard and fast. She feels it deep in her belly, each thrust hitting that spot that turns her into a moaning mess. She keeps one hand around his neck to hold some of her weight, but the other is on his hip, pulling him in closer, guiding him faster.

She's already so close, and his every movement inside her makes everything burn hotter and draw tighter. His hip or his something is hitting against her clit with every thrust, giving her the friction she needs and has been aching for. She can feel it rising, and he's urging her on, begging her to let go for him, telling her that he needs her to come.

She bets they are quite the sight right now, wishes for a second there was a mirror so she could see the way he's taking her roughly against the wall, his pants at his ankles and her dress still on. He's biting at his lip, his gaze focused on where they are coming together. He looks so attractive like this that she tries to memorize it.

She's babbling brokenly about how good it feels, and she can hear the slap of their bodies together between his moans. He's getting close; she can tell by the way he tenses and groans. That only makes her want him more. It always turns her on to see his pleasure.

"God, love, s-so close, need you to come, darling. Are you close?"

She nods frantically, and she hears his relieved exhale as he sucks the sensitive spot on her neck again. He starts to take her even faster, hitting perfectly against that spot, so everything coils tighter, ready to release. But she's addicted to the way this feels, how he sounds, and how he's looking at her—she doesn't want it to end just yet. She fights the rising tide, drowning in the exquisite sensation and the building pressure. She fights her orgasm until she can't anymore, and she's flooded with hot waves of pleasure that overtake her. She lets out these loud broken sounds as she pitches over the edge, clenching on him as it surges through her.

She hears his, "God, that's it, love. I c-can't…" then he moans harshly as he thrusts in deep, spilling inside her with a relieved groan. She shivers as pleasant little aftershocks roll through her. She presses her lips softly to his as another comes, making her clench on him.

He slides out of her and lets her down gently, shaking out his arms as he catches his breath. She slumps against the wall, everything all loose and tingly. After a moment, he comes back to himself, grabs her hand and urges, "Come here, darling."

He leads her into his bed, and she laughs softly as she rights her clothes. He doesn't bother to redress, just pulls her into his arms and draws the covers. They sit for a minute, breathing each other in revelling in the afterglow and embrace.

"I…" she starts, then shifts, so she's actually looking at him, her face no longer buried in his chest, inhaling his scent. "I don't regret going public, I'm sorry I said that. You were right; I was blaming you for Mary Margaret's scene and the aftermath, which was unfair. I'm sorry."

"Thank you. I'm sorry too. I'm so sorry I made that awful comment about you and Leopold, I don't…" He's struggling to repeat it, and that is really all she needed to hear, that wasn't him, that was all the anger. He continues, "I'm just I'm sorry, that was terrible and not what you say to someone you love."

"It's okay," and it is, now that she knows he didn't mean it. It's been bothering her for days, but the sting of it is now completely gone.

She still has things to apologize for, cringing as she remembers how she taunted him about his job. "I don't look down on you for what you do, and I'm sorry I made it seem that way."

He sighs, closing his eyes and taking a breath. "I don't want to fight anymore, but I think in some ways, maybe unconsciously, you do."

She pushes past the instinct to get angry at that. She, too doesn't want to fight, and they need to talk through their issues if they don't want to end up in this exact scenario a month from now. "It… it hurts a little that you think that. I don't think you are right, but I want you to tell me why. I want to fix it."

He presses a kiss to her forehead, as he tells her, "I really love you, you know." She smiles up at him, and he goes on, "We're from different worlds. You've always had money, and from what you've told me of your upbringing, you were raised to judge people like me."

He's not wrong, but it rubs her the wrong way, "Yes, but I—"

He raises a finger to her lips, looking almost fearful. "This is really hard for me. Can you please just listen for now?" She nods softly. "Thank you, love. So most of the people in your circle look down on people like me. You've always been different, I've known that from the moment we met, but you suggest things sometimes without realizing the impact."

She has absolutely no idea what he's talking about, but soon he enlightens her. "I can't afford the kind of clothes one is supposed to wear to the events you take me to. I'm not well educated. I don't know anything about art, or cars. I catch some of the games at work, so I can sometimes talk about sports. I have good alcohol down pat because my job, and that's not actually something I have in common with those people because I guarantee you none of them have ever tended bar in their life—they'd be better tippers if they had. I don't belong in your world, and I am more than fine with that, I don't want to be like most of those men, but it means that I don't like attending those events. Especially when they take my time away from my son, that time is precious to me, and I thought you understood that."

She did know that he was a bit uncomfortable, but she'd thought it was the newness and that it would pass, she hadn't realized he hated it so much, but then she never asked. The time with Roland is another matter. "I do understand your time with Roland is precious. I'm sorry, I guess I lost sight of that. It's the summer, I have more time with Henry and I just assumed it was the same with you and Roland."

"I do have more time, my days off are at least full days with him, but it's still not enough. There's more work in the summer, and I need that money. It's always a hard trade-off."

It's so unfair, she would give him the difference, pay him so he could see his son more, but she knows he'd never take it. She wonders, "If you could, would you work less?"

He shrugs, "Doesn't matter; I have to."

He doesn't really, or at least he might not have to, in the near future, but now is not the time to be planning their future. They need to get over this hurdle before they talk about getting more serious.

On that note, she tells him, "It stung when you called me blind to my own privilege. I'm not unaware of the differences between us, I just didn't think you wanted it drawn attention to. I know you don't make all that much at the bar but—"

"Regina, I make a dollar an hour, the tips give me more, but on a good day, I'm only taking in about fifty dollars, and on a bad one I might only take home twenty."

That can't be right, that's so low. "I… that's all?"

"That's all." He says, and she shakes her head, still stunned. "A few times, and I could probably count them on one hand, I've made over a hundred in one night, but that's rare. What I live on in a month you might spend on a dress or a charity dinner."

She can't imagine living like that. He is right, she didn't know that, she always thought he made a lot more. She missed the signs he was struggling financially. "I didn't… I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"You don't need to be sorry about it, that's my reality. I make things work with what I make, but if I take more than one of my usual nights off, or I have an unexpected expense, things start to get dicey."

"I would help if you'd let me," she offers, unsurprised when he shakes his head.

"I'm not asking for charity, just some understanding and acceptance if I can't attend events because of work or my son."

"Of course, you have it. I don't like them all that much either, they are better with you, that's why I was pushing. All I want is to spend time with you. It was good the way we did it before. I love the days just us and the boys, or with Granny too. I thought things had to change once we went public, but a lot of that was in my head. I had this idea of all the things we would do, and I lost sight of the fact that we don't have to go to these things if we don't want to, that I don't have to if _I_ don't want to. In a way, I think our time in secret made me forget that I don't usually enjoy myself at them. I kept thinking about how much better everything is with you, and _it is_, but that doesn't mean we need to go to bad events just because you make them passable. There are a few I always enjoy, but we don't even have to go together, I can go alone. I wasn't allowed to do that with Leopold…" She doesn't want to think about him, so she moves on, "I was asking you to go with me, but it wasn't really a question considering I expected you to say yes and guilted you if you didn't. From now on, it's a real question and I'll stop inviting you to the ones I don't even want to go to, and I'm going to stop going. Life is too short to waste it doing things you don't want to because it's expected."

He smiles warmly at that, and she tilts her face up for a soft peck. "I love you," he says when they part, which she echoes. They end up kissing softly some more, then not so softly, and this time the sex isn't quick and desperate, but a sweet savouring of each other.

They talk things through again in the morning, both ensuring there is nothing left they are upset or worried about that hasn't been discussed or resolved. It feels good to have it all out in the open. There's no longer anything hanging over them—nothing left unsaid. She's never had that before, but it's better so much better, and no matter how hard it is for her to talk about what's bothering her, she knows she can with him, and it will all be okay.

She ends up going home just long enough to shower, change clothes and pick up her son. They spend the day with Robin, Roland and Granny, taking the boys to the park, then playing board games—with Granny as Roland's "partner," so that everyone can play.

It's one of the best days she's had in a long time, and she relishes it, vowing not to take it all for granted again.


	10. Chapter 10

He starts carrying the ring around after they make up, wanting to be ready if the perfect opportunity presented itself. He almost did it yesterday, right after Armstrong declared, "That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind," but Roland and Henry (who were allowed to stay up to witness the momentous occasion) were entranced by what was on the television, and he didn't want to distract from that.

He also didn't want her to think it was because of that, because what he had been dreaming of happening for so long had finally come true. As much as the space nerd in him would love to have their engagement be tied to the moon landing, she might not feel the same, and he wants to marry her because he loves her, not because they had just witnessed such an important moment in history.

Cruella's hosting a celebratory party today, and while the kids had been invited, both are overtired and surly, so they opted to leave them in Granny's care. She was going to talk them both into afternoon naps, a prospect that's also attractive to him, an overtired, but not surly, adult. But a nap is out of the question, they are out, and one doesn't nap in this sort of attire. He's wearing a suit, that is surprisingly comfortable. It was a gift from Regina, one that she'd been nervous he wouldn't accept, and perhaps before their talk he wouldn't have, but she'd told him how sexy she thought he'd look in it and that was all she really needed to say to have him take it. He doesn't know how much it cost, but far more than he would have paid, and it makes him realize there is some benefit to more expensive clothing, all in all not worth the high cost, but he now knows it's not _exactly _the same.

She's in a black dress, nothing fancy or low cut, but still drives him to distraction, especially after the stirring once over she'd given him, and the whisper in his ear about what seeing him dressed up does to her and all the things she wanted to do to him later. It was enough to have him wanting to skip the event altogether, take advantage of the fact the boys were occupied at Granny's, but she'd refused with a teasing smile. She's stunning today, happy and radiant, the way he loves seeing her. The intense wanting from before has abated into a loving appreciation her, and this time they have together.

For the first time, he doesn't feel too out of place. He can dominate a conversation about the moon landing, and everyone is (or is pretending to be) interested in what he has to say, a welcome change. Even still, they don't stay at the party for too long, they have a couple drinks with Cruella before she gets too far gone, but they start to leave just as people start to get rowdy from taking advantage of the open bar. He had indulged a bit, as had Regina, and they took a cab to the location in case they decided to really imbibe. But as they slowly sipped their third drinks, they'd exchanged a look, and Regina took him around to say goodbyes. Then they'd gotten caught up in a conversation with Mallory Drachen, who, as he learned, knows his sister-in-law Ruby. The raised brow as she said, "You're Ruby's brother," coupled with what he's heard from Ruby about "Mal," told him all he needed to know about how they know each other. He'd had to stop and suss her out, and it hadn't taken long at all to see why Ruby liked her so much. He had wondered why Ruby always said it was complicated, right up until the moment Mallory's husband came over and whisked her away.

He expresses his surprise that Mal is married to Regina, barely stopping himself unnecessarily from spilling her history with Ruby. She smirks at him, leaning in to whisper in his ear what he thinks will be something sexy, and ruins it by saying, "She's gay, and having an affair with Ruby."

"Yes, I gathered that. I'd rather not dwell on the specifics, is there anyone else we need to see?"

They say goodbye to a few others, then finally they'd made their way out.

It's nice outside, well, it is for the first two minutes. They stand just outside of the doorway, they debating whether to walk for a bit or get a cab now. They decide on a walk, but as soon as they cross the street, the skies open.

Regina shrieks adorably as water rains down on them while he fiddles with the umbrella he almost forgot to bring. She laughs when he gets it up, shielding them from the rain with one hand, his other sweeping the drops off her face.

He wants this forever. He doesn't want to wait anymore. She looks at him with a stunning smile, and he's struck by how beautiful she is and how much he loves her. She wraps her arms around his waist and leans in for a kiss, which he accepts, his free hand coming around her exposed back.

She hums softly as the kiss breaks, and it makes him go to mush. He looks around, it's raining, they are outside standing on a subway grate, garbage overflowing in the nearby corner. It's not the perfect moment—by any stretch of the imagination—but perfect moments don't exist, and he's done waiting; their story has never followed expectations anyway.

He holds the umbrella up high as he lowers to one knee, not an easy feat, but he manages, which he hopes is a good sign. He knows that she loves him, but this time last year she was married to another man, she might think it's too soon.

"What… what are you doing?" she asks, her eyes shining in a way that suggests she knows what he's about to do.

He pulls the ring from his breast pocket, and opens the box, holding it out to her. He had this whole speech prepared about how he loves her fire, the way she puts her son first, and isn't afraid to challenge him, how every moment with her has been precious to him, how he can't experience more, but it all leaves him, and all he can say is, "Regina Mills, will you marry me?"

Her hand flies to her mouth, and her breath catches. A single tear falls down her face, and he's worried for a moment, god, it was too fast, he's gone and mucked it all up, but then she's nodding, softly at first, then with more vigour and his heart explodes.

He stands up, wobbling awkwardly as he does, but he can't be bothered to care because she wants to marry him, _she _wants to marry _him._ His hand shakes as he slides the ring onto her finger. He looks up to find her wet eyes locked on him, and he can feel tears swelling in his own eyes, overcome by the sheer elation that she said yes. His fingers are still on hers when she kisses him hard, with so much force, he drops the umbrella. He goes to pick it up, but she breathes, "Leave it," between kisses, so he does. They stay there kissing in the rain, on a street corner, not a care in the world, struck by pure happiness. This is heaven, having her in her arms, his fiancée. It's surreal and incredible. Occasionally, they break for one of them to breathe incredulously, "We're getting married."

He presses kiss after kiss to her lips, and to her hand, to the ring. He doesn't know how long they stand there for, but he doesn't feel the rain, immune to everything other than how much he loves her, how excited he is that she agreed to marry him. He only starts to feel the dampness of his clothing as they sit in the cab, her head on his shoulder, her hand outstretched, her eyes focused on the ring.

"It's breathtaking," she says, and he agrees.

"It was Granny's, she gave it to me to give to you."

Her eyes well up again as she asks, "She did?"

He nods, echoes, "She did."

She stares down at the ring for a few more seconds, then looks up at him and says, "Move in with me."

"What?"

"I don't want to wait for the wedding, and it doesn't matter what people think. I want to go to bed with you every night and wake up with you. I want our boys to go to the same school in September. I want to be able to tuck Roland in every night. I want… I want it all, I don't want to wait for when 'it's right.'"

He thought he would be the only one with a surprise today, but he was wrong. He should just say yes, he'd love to, but he can't resist teasing, "Is the pool ready yet?"

She shakes her head playfully, "Two more weeks, so are you in or what?"

He can't keep it up anymore, the smile that's been on his face since she took the ring growing even wider as he says, "Yes, I'm ready for a new adventure, let's do it."

**THE END (for now)**

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**Thanks for reading this little AU, that turned out not to be the one shot I initially imagined. I may end up adding to this in the new year, but for now I have other things I've been neglecting that I'm going to turn my attention back to. I'm so grateful for all the love and support for this story, it means a lot :)**


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